massage from the forgotten Poem, by DREEK0, at My poetic side

Where is your heart, where does it lie, why does it lie,

About what I care about?

How could I possibly provide the words to create the illusion, yet I have....

Now to experience truth would mean suicide.

To be outside the identity my veins are locked to.

If I truly care, I'll embrace the despair, I put our soul thru.

I will cry eternally, die infinite times, so that Drico may rise.

If I am the mask of perception, this is the last time I shine.

When I'm gon, you'll only have memories of the times I was your spine....goodbye

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