IRC-Galleria

"Twelve faces shape the unholy circle, one mask for any opportunity. This sphere must remain incomplete ...- (as) in its centre the thirteenth mask is me."
If love was something I could feel, at least some kind of cheerfulness ...- but i feel nothing, drowned in pain, half-frozen in my emptiness
Beyond this veneer of friendless lies my true face, that no-one knows. This mask's a lie, obvious and sad, my heart is empty and all is cold.