The banish’d memories of a shattered past,
A child born out of blood, consumed by hate.
Forgotten creature trapped where naught shall last,
His birth has now become his life and fate.
Lo, I am he who from death gaineth life,
Behind the hero’s mask my demons hide,
By day I live by lies, by night a knife,
But nothing seems to fill the void inside.
For thee I ache where once a heart had been,
But I promise to thee if ‘twere still there,
Though tarnished by my past of righteous sin,
To thee I would entrust my black heart’s care.
Alas, in darkness I shall ever live,
For monsters have no heart that they may give.