I'm a master of words yet I never make sense
I speak from my heart but it never makes sense
My name describes me but I never had such luck in that field of experience
I always kept my true feeling a secret from the world
My true name is only known to those who understand me
My true name at this point is known by a few but my alter ego is widely known
I had always been subconscious about things I write never believe I write anything good
I wonder if writing was ever my talent in this world
I wondered if deep poetry and romantic poetry was my only talent
My talent evolves into obsession
I feel myself so alone in this curses world of blood
I cover myself in a shroud of darkness to make myself safe
I am always expected to be better than I am already am
I never was working better under stress because it leave a mess
I always find myself in a foreign situation no matter what
I am sad that I couldn't do better myself
I am angry that I couldn't be better than I am already
Within my own veil of darkness my virtues expanded like never before
My philosophy is barely recognizing but my philosophy is a part of myself
I am me
You are you
Nobody can change us from what we really are for ourselves
The true question I ask who are you and how are you going to leave your mark on this world?
