I was born.
I don't remember where.
I don't look forward to the morn.
My place is not with the light.
I've survived for a while
but I find it unfair
that my age is so non-versatile.
I can not fully live nor can I stop my sight.
I need a cure.
Will someone hear my prayer?
I feel so impure,
for in death I've taken delight.
I'm searching for an antidote
so I can stop breathing this air.
I'll get rid of this dryness in my throat.
My fate I will rewrite.
You think I have endless potential
but you're wrong there.
To live, death is essential.
There is no future for an immortal of the night.
