Maestro of the Lost

The child within me yearns for justice,

the young woman she's become longs for peace.

The anger bubbles over and burns us,

the memory of light tastes bittersweet.

We are built of nothing more than heartache,

stitched into one with broken threads of Fate,

save for the heart and soul, which they would break

apart all for their puppet to create.

They say I am Maestro of the Lost.

Hearing my name comes at a pretty cost.