And what of it now that you would even peruse me from my slumber? Have you not cursed thyself to silence and still you speak? Suffer it not to the multitude of nights where you would have yourself slain for the sin of speaking what thy heart is full of. Your heart is darker than the skin you were conceived in. Were it not for your futile efforts to mask your tumultuous face with a human's, you would have long been cast out from the lives of those you surround yourself with. It is better to be alone in your suffering. Sever thy hands for you have not love within you. Pluck out thy tongue for no rivers of life dwell within you. Inwardly you know of the serpent who has ceased all meaning of your life. I beseech you for once to accept the death that has been handed to you.

I know that my light has been darkened as I've wondered through the tombs of my own mind, but am I truly with out love? Am I a cruel thing? Is my presence so heavy to those around me that I demolish their spirits with the pattering of my feet? Do I truly place grievous wounds on their hearts with such great intent and bitterness?! Has not that bitterness that was my birthright been directed only towards myself?! It has not and never will be my thought to disturb the essence of mankind. I am not so evil that I would provide such mourning upon another soul. That is why I wish to resolve myself to isolation, to maintain mine eyes to the caves of the unseen. I place the charge upon life itself if it wishes to draw me out of my prison, but I promise to hide myself further until the call of love wakes me from my deathly slumber. Oh bitter one who gives me reason to drown in ichors and potions, who causes me to rend my flesh open in vain attempts to find ears to listen, why must you torment me so? Have we not sat in these cells for long? Have we not been our only companions since our inception? I cannot leave you here. I wish to be free, but my sorrows have broken my strength and I have long since lost faith in my release. Should I perish here, I would have no regret for this has been my home. I know not else that exists, nor have I tasted the color of day in many moons. Love, freedom, and the breath that has quickened me to move have been stolen from me, and I do believe oftentimes that I was never meant for such things. My black wings have filled the hearts of those I loved with such dread. Maybe you are correct old friend, it is good that we remain here until sleep ensnares us once again.