The past keeps finding me. A shadow I cannot outrun, stains like blemish I cannot erase.
The truth that made me, I thought forgotten, always slips through memory cracks.
I am bound, an undead unable to find rest, time and again woken from my slumber.
I want to forget, I try to pretend, but for how long, when it stares me in the face.
The echoes of a familiar rhyme, arise when all seems fair and clear.
Clipping peace and sanity, pushing me closer to the edge.
The places I’ve been, the things I’ve done, in search of remedy.
Decades of futility.
Can you help me? Do you have my remedy?
Emmalase.
Emmalase