Brother must be worried about me.
The night offered no response to the solitary figure strewn in the shadows. He was in an alley, somewhere he did not recognize. The moon mocked him from above, leaving him without light. He felt regretful of his words, well no, that wouldn't quite be accurate. He knew that he should feel regretful of his words. But that was pure speculation he could not feel. Emotions were just factors implied in situations. Calculations, no essence behind him moved when they were acknowledged. He had forgotten what it was truly to feel. He knew, by pure logic, that his brother had been hurt by his words. Yet, he no longer knew what hurt was, so he could not sympathize.
I shouldn't have said those things to ---
A thought that would have rattled his heart, if he had, had one, formed in his mind. Edward Elric was not his brother. Who was that boy that claimed to be his brother? Perhaps he in truth did have a brother named Alphonse and he, whatever he was, was just a replica of unquenchable sorrow.
I am only a few fragments of what he was able to copy of Alphonse Elric. Alphonse Elric is dead.
Yet he could remember that one memory so vividly. The flames, the blood, the circle deteriorating.
These are all just creations of an alchemist. I bet he thinks himself brilliant for deceiving me this long. I really thought, I really thought I was his brother. I really believed in mother... In everything he told me...
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling, I cant seem...
Who was he? Who was Alphonse Elric? If I know this...surely, I will know who I am supposed to be. Who I was made to be.
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take
I've felt this way before
So insecure
The only difference between my opponents and myself is that I am made of steel and they of clay. I just want to be alive, as do they...
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
You say that you couldn't give me back, or create life for me because it would murder people in the process. Yet those people only want life when it is threatened. I yearn for it constantly. I want to create my own memories.
Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting how I can't seem...
I just want to feel real. I want to know I'll have memories that wont disappear.
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take
I've felt this way before
So insecure
I was once asked him,
"Brother are you afraid of death. I'm not. After all, how can I die if I was never born?"
He never did answer me. I should have delighted in my ignorance. I knew I inhabited a hulk of machinery that it was just merely created. But I truly believed that my soul was indeed born. Yet, I was indestructible with the suit. How could I fear death, when there was no life, no blood to blind the pieces of this armor together?
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
He thinks himself unfortunately, my creator. At least he has a reality to return to. I am just a tool, and indestructible too... But if that is so, then why do I feel as if I am breaking inside. Well, I think I shall need to feel as if I am breaking inside by the revelation of my existence. Or non-existence.
Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
How ironic. I am the perfect vessel. I feel no physical or mental pain. Yet I yearn for human debility. I must run, he, who claims to be my brother must have the answer. Yet I know if I run to him, all I will find are shadows. Shadows containing webs of deceit. He will want me to believe that I am real...that soon I will be restored.
To what?
An illusion of your lost brother?
I'd rather keep running.
