To the One Who Walks Alone
Behold the living and the dead.
The false name of your mask never dies,
And your distant, weeping confession
Is a pain that belongs to you alone.
Even if the love of sorrow drifts far away,
A dream that cannot laugh remains your only freedom.
The axe that strikes after blind faith
Is a wound of yours that can never be washed away.
The beauty within your singing voice
Is a silent dignity you can never confess.
Behold! Look at that light of reflection.
Are you still walking all online, all alone?
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