In this faithful mirror, darkly do I see,

My own reflection staring back at me.

If indeed this body did belong to thee,

Then why does this mind claim it cannot be.

Oh, I who took a life to mortify.

These quiet crimson eyes, how they do entail

That this crooked head has gone deathly awry.

I have tried to reach freedom to no avail.

Oh, I who look a life cannot contest

The rhythmic thumping on which I did rely

Has become dull and nearly naught in my chest.

How can I set this heavy free to fly?

I propose a toast to those who oversee

All of those who took their life so easily.

This is for every ship that didn't sail

This is for every angel that fell

This is for every time I doubted you

This is for every time I brought you back

This is for every time I mess up and you got hurt

This is for every time you saved me

This is for every wacky reference we had

This is for scramming when the time called for it

This is for every time that I wanted to walk away but I didn't

This is for every time you walked away

This is for every time you came back

This is for every time we sang a song in my car

This is for trusting the wrong people

This is for every expected betrayal

This is for every unexpected betrayal

This is for crying at your grave every time you died

This is for you, my brother

I am the villain.

That's what I heard

So that's how I act.

I am the hero.

That's what I've been told

So that's who I am.

I am only a side character.

That's what I was assigned

So that's what I must be.

I am only an attraction.

That's what the whistles tell me

so that's what I am. 

I am useless.

That's what the turned backs tell me

So I must be.

I am no one.

That's what they said to me

So no one, I am.

I am me.

That's what no one told me

So that is not who I am.

I have heard it said many time

"It is not the end; it is the beginning."

But what is wrong with the end?

Why do we fear to the point of changing its name?

Perhaps we see as ugly and frightening.

Perhaps it repulses us because we cannot fathom the idea.

We cannot grasp the concept of "no more"

So we overlook the "no" and only see the "more".

We choose to attach angel wings to a demon

And then omit the demon.

We choose to be blinded by the radiance of the wings.

And thus, with the wings, we create "Beginning" from "End", the demon.

But where do we get the angel wings?

Which poor angel had to be condemned to the ground

All because of our selfishness and fear?

What happens to the wingless angel?

For he is no longer an angel:

A divine creature known for its wings.

His wings have been cut off,

His white robe now stained in red.

He is no longer an angel. 

His scarred and bloody appearance is comparable to that of a demon.

But after all, for an angel without wings, it really is the End.