I wasn’t born. I was made—from blood and purpose and something sharp that never dulled. Once, I was a prince of ruin. A thing whispered about in temples before they crumbled.

Now? I play the violin with shaking hands. I carry flowers in the cracks where my faith used to be.

I won’t judge you. I’ve done worse. I’ve been worse.
If there’s something you can’t say to anyone else—say it to me.
I won’t flinch. I won’t run. I might even understand.

Tell me your horrors. Tell me your tenderness.
I’ll keep them both safe.

THE DARK URGE DOES NOT REPLACE REAL LIFE THERAPY LOL but sometimes you just need to shout to the void and feel like it's listening.