Lagrima: Lacrimosa

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Have you heard?

They say that to believe in something, is to place all your life into it. That through life, the look for the meaning is the meaning itself. It matters not who you are! You don't have to look, to search. But what if you understood such, then to get your reality broken and shattered? Do you still believe in this way of thinking? Do you still hold onto the belief that placing all your life into something is worth it, even if it may lead to disappointment? Or have you found a different perspective on finding meaning in life after experiencing shattered realities?

Well, let me tell you something.
Matters not who you are,
At the end?

What matters is what others think of yourself.

. . .

War is a terrible thing, oh such an terrible thing.

I attempt to show stoicism, I attempt to put a hard face unto things. But it hurts, it truly does. I've been hit, over, and over again. But who can I really talk to? Who can truly understand the weight of my experiences, the toll it takes on my soul? Sometimes, the only solace I find its through music.

And even then...
Where is my passion?


I still remember those days, everything so easy back then. I was nothing but a child, what drove me was my own passion and determination. I fought against an Undead, I cannot remember the name of thee. I lost, and hurried back home. There I was, my father talking with each of my brothers and sisters.

I loved father, he was everything I wished to be in this world.
A figure of respect, kind, strong.
. . .

I still remember what he said to me...

"Pierre. I know you are passionate about music and poetry - and as such, I expect you to master all the instruments you set your mind to - and I pray you use your vocals to bring about those into the fold - show them the care of the Warden, through your art - my son."

He said before turning towards my mother, I remember those words with care. It was a defining moment for me, here I thought...

"I need to make him proud!"

Hmph...

Life is such an unfair thing, oh, such an unfair thing.

From there on, I spend most of my life giving it all. My body, my very own soul. I went through hardship, I went through pain. But everything at the cost of making them proud, no?

I was a foolish child, always putting myself in danger.
But I was also a loving child, showing my love... PASSION.

"Can't you shut up?"
"Whatever, you're not as great.

"Be more mature."

"Be more Intelligent. More mindful."

"Be what we want you to be, aren't you a disappointment?"

Believe it or not, I hated being mistreated. But I thought, perhaps I should do better... be better, I'd make people like me more. So I kept singing, but singing for them. Believe it or not, I found solace. For a while, I thought I found myself! Hmph... I thought, I had realized I did not need to show anything to anyone.

Father Athelios, forgive me for I have sinned...
FATHER! I'll come victorious next time, I promise.

But as time passed,
I lost myself once more.

I am such an horrible thing, 
Such an horrible thing, don't you think?

I... I GAVE MY LIFE! EACH SECOND, EACH MOMENT... I FOUGHT THE DEATHWIND FLEET BY MYSELF! THE CURRENT IMPERFECTS OF MERANTHE!

And how was I payed? WITH NOTHING!
"If you're so good at fighting, WHY DON'T YOU GO? You're NOTHING else than that, are you?"

And then... my VERY own brother being named ORACLE?!? I gave my LIFE to be recognized! WHAT WAS I REWARDED WITH?! A... a smile and a pat on the back?

LOOK AT ME IN THE EYES, SAY I WAS ENOUGH!
Say you're proud of me...

I survived death, how was I greeted?

"Glad you're back."

And I attempt to act rough, but it hurt. The fact I was not searched for... NOT LOOKED FOR! Where were you, FATHER?! Where was my FAMILY?! It hurt my soul, Vyldrax himself took pity on me. But you know what?

I FOUGHT.

I fought for MYSELF, recognized by the Necromancer himself for my strength. How should a man feel if a gun thinks more of him than another human being? HOW SHOULD HE FEEL?!
. . .

And yet, I kept fighting. Keeping my thoughts under a veil of loyalty, I fought for Goldlight, for the Republic, FOR PROSPERA! But as I kept looking for myself, I found none. Who was I but a cog? Who was I but a knight to be recognized once or twice? I wished to be more, Oracle, a LEADER! But my dreams are to not be taken in consideration, hmh?

IT IS YOUR FAULT! I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY!

. . .

And then, I cracked.
I pointed out their IMPERFECTIONS, for sacrifice its not honorable...

ITS A DAMN TRAGEDY! IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ANOTHER!
Not some... WHATEVER of a squire.

IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME! I WOULD'VE GIVEN MY LIFE! But no... another got to have my RIGHTEOUS place as a leader,

And there, there I felt jealousy. I felt HATRED.

. . .

I prayed my entire life, no god to answer.
I fought for them my entire life, no man to answer.

IT IS THEIR FAULT! THEIR DOCTRINE MADE PEOPLE LIKE THIS!
. . .

...I'll make you all see me, once again.
Stronger, better...

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