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[Lore Master]

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A small volume sits somewhere deep under a shelf, covered in dust of days long past. A small spider lays shining thin lines of glistening gossamer over the cover, waiting for its next meal. Within the pages are thoughts long forgotten...feelings long past. What does it matter to the world if they are lost? Who would actually notice, as the book has gone from all thought. But he knows...he remembers...and so he writes the words that once poured from a living vibrant soul that is now so dark...so cold...and so the ink dances....

To someone who will never see my face:
I have seen you, seen you walking in your black veiled mask. You have not seen me watchingm, you will not see me. I have seen you kill, I have seen you lie and cheat and swindle. I have seen the side of you that you think you hide so well when you walk among the common man. I know who you are deep within your soul, the little bit you have left.
I do not love you.
I will never love you.
I despise you deeply.
You clutch for my attentions, you do everything you can to try to get me to come to you, to show you my face and let you know me. You believe me to be something I'm not, someone I'm not, someone who holds you in high regard. I cannot love such a deamon. My heart knows that the angelic mask you hide behind disguises a dark and sinister deamon.
I have seen your horns.
You do not scare me.
You hold no power over me.
For you, I hold nothing but disgust. I will never be yours, and you will never hold a place in my heart of hearts. One day, you will realize this. But until then I wash my hands of you. Go rot somewhere far from me, and do not let me hear my name fall from your lips ever again. You are not worthy.