A hole in your mind as deep as space,
                                              slowly converging your subconscious.
                                              Fire dancing on your skin burning away
                                              at the exterior of your morals. Your
                                              shattered like glass yet you still try
                                             To shine in the midst of the heavy fog.
                                             Your inclination to fight gets you the
                                             name Belicose. You’re ravaged by the past
                                             yet taunted by the present. Your pain keeps
                                             you sane but your happiness is merely in vain.