If we could only turn back time,

never as it seems,

A bad man, A sad man,

Armies of robbers and thieves,

fear rages like fire,

flows like a stream,

Born from conflict,

ice in your soul,

darkness in your heart.

Queen of anything.

King of everything.

Harry smiled bitterly. Sitting on the cold metal floor, he twisted the delicate silver knife in his hands.

Funny, thhe Boy-Who-Lived, dieing by his own hand. Rather ironic, being the only one who can kill him after so many tried.

Wonder what the rest of the wizarding world would think, not that it mattered. They all either worshiped me, or hated me.

Even my darling friends.

Harry thought, glaring at the wall.

They were just after the money and fame of being the Boy-Who-Lived best friend.

He stood, stepping over to the edge of the tower.

Better to die now than get stabbed in the back later.

Sorry, Luna...Moony...Neville...Sirius...

Harry slid the knife across his wrists, Such a beautiful color, Blood.

He leapt off the tower. He had always liked falling.

He smiled peacefully.

He could not always be the King Of Every Thing.