A crown, a seal, a rose, a metal hand.

He still is an echo in my heart and mind, an eternal link.
This thing would see me burn;
I feel his laughter whisper past my hair and behind my eyes
I feel
metal slipping down, down, reaches into my core;
Burns like a funeral pyre.

Would it be better not to see?
Not to know?
Could I live in bliss and human skin?
Maker said no.
My eyes are open again,
the echo smiles,
the thirteen voices welcome, welcome...

"Welcome home, dasnedir kinder."