The cries of the stoic are never heard,
the cries of the beast are never understood.
Both are the same,
yet worlds apart.
Both are noble,
one in status, one in morals.
Chosen paths:
one in the way of the other.
One stays standing,
the other falls.
The one standing falls for the fallen
but both fall into despair.
One stands on a cliff
overlooking the city that doesn't care.
The other stands in his study,
hiding behind his mask.
One's losing himself, and
the other ready to jump
Both fought . . .
Both lost