A stolen dance
Given to you with my hands.
A stolen moment
Taken from the days to come.
Could it be, I was the accomplice
To my own downfall.
The portrait is clear of dust
Now, you see me, for who I truly am.
Like Dorian Gray, I am scarred by all the torture
Others have claimed upon my soul.
Could it be you are another whose hands
Are filled with my blood..