Tempest

Hands on my face, I pressed my knuckles to my eyes, the pain offsetting the one in my heart.

Why? I am so callous, I am so...so...thoughtless. My actions have brought pain to others.

I created my own doom, I was the one who should perish...and yet.

I am still here.

So I sing songs of things gone by, and walk a wanderer's pilgrim forever.

No repentance for me.

Eternal pain.

And it is all my fault. My own to blame.

Can I look upon their faces again?

Will they forgive me?

I guess I’ll never know.