I watch you.
Blackened, wrapped in a battered old jacket that you like to think reflects your soul, your hearts.
Maybe it does.
I see you run. See you try so very hard to end your miserable existence.
Except it's not that easy, is it?
Not when you're the last.
When you've got duties, a universe to think of.
I see you take the human child.
Oh, not in the literal sense.
Never that.
But you delude yourself that you need her, that you love her.
Impossible.
And when you lose her you think you've lost yourself.
And maybe you have.
Maybe you need someone to show you who you really are.
And you will come to me.