Life is hard enough without these demons flying out at me.
Scraping my skin and ripping out my heart.
Fear is the soul of the Master.
He kills me within.
His army of dead and lost men tend to wander in my mind,
Marching along with their swords swinging by their sides.
And the majestic pride is worn like a badge of honour on their hearts.
But nothing will let them beat me down,
Their pride is worthless and their badges will crack and break under my strength.
My eyes won't shed a tear and my mind won't shatter and collapse under pathetic memories or what if's.
Life goes on, seize the day and depart from the faults of everyday life.
'We are born crying, live moaning and die disappointed.'
Don't let this be the motto of your existence.