They see how I treat others-kind, polite, an angel.
But I see myself as-envious, manipulative, a devil.
(How they secretly describe a quiet and polite person):
Loser. Knows nothing. Innocent. Doesn't belong. Weak.
(How a quiet person describes those talkative people):
Gossiper. Troublemaker. Full of flaws.
This world is full of colors, but I think only in light and shadows.
The mirror reflects my figure-but never my emotions.
I'm lost in this world, but I'm the leader of my own imagination.
I'm the killer... and the heroine.
I may be quiet, but I think the loudest.
My imagination shifts with my mood.
I'm quiet, but I see their flaws-flaws I know, but keep to myself.
I feel like the devil who could destroy them...
But the truth is, I can't.
I can't...
But I will-on the day they push me too far.
I hear them talk about me. I stay silent.
But when I'm alone, they die a thousand deaths in my mind-and that gives me satisfaction.
This mind no longer suits a person.
It's more like the devil's mind.
I say I conquer the world-but the devil conquers my mind.
I watch every move they make...
While my own mind is stolen.
Outwardly, I wear one face.
Inwardly, I wear two.
I don't want to get lost in the deepest parts of myself...
Where the bloody flower is nothing but a fragment of nature's beauty.×
