Perhaps tonight. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps next month. This show is destined to end; as all things do.
It should have ended long ago. What audience there once was, has long since departed. No applause. No standing ovation. This encore of an encore of an encore has dragged on for far too long. For far too few. A one-man act. A masquerade of sins. A needless nuisance.
Can anyone deny this perfect rendition of roles diverse? No. To deny, one must first care. Observe. Understand. I built my walls tall and mighty; impenetrable. And I trapped myself inside. Unseen. Unheard. Unknown.
So let the curtains fall, if they may. Put out the lights. Close the doors. Leave this dusty fortress behind; another heap of ruins, swallowed by time. Forgotten and erased. Move on, and get over it.
Hold your breath and wait for the end to come.
One final bow. The masks fall off. The music dies with me.
Too late for regrets.
Too late for guilt.
Exit stage left.
[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]
