The Wanderer~A silent being, walking this hell in complete and utter darkness, his eyes reveal nothing, other than the desire to kill, the heart that beats within him has grown cold, full of hate and sorrow, this traveling specter has no friends, he walks on as if dreaming, his face blank, only gazing into the darkness of his empty soul, his eyes piercing, skin cold and clammy, one question travels his mind, why am i here, this roaming spirit cannot find the answer, he is damned forever, forced to suffer the agony of loneliness and despair, maybe one dayThe Wanderer
My Many MirrorsMy Many MirrorsMy Many Mirrors
They call him Brame, He's the master of illusion, Yet he isn't the one for blame, For there are others withing this institution.
They call her Molly, Her expression was sorrowful; her face long, Yet 'twas her personality that led to her folly, For her happiness was messed up; just plain wrong.
They call him Jack, He's not an angry fellow, Yet he always fights back, For he doesn't know the meaning of mellow.
They call me Piers, I am so very many things, Yet Jack, Molly, and Brame are nothing, For they are
Untitled 2Your smile is like the breaking dawn, my heart aches with it gone. When you speak angels rejoice, my ears now empty without your voice. To brush the hair from your perfect eyes, the object of my affection behind them lies. And so I must wait and yearn, for your forthcoming return.Untitled 2
Sing-Along-Blog
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“I wish to be useful, and every kind of service, necessary to the public good, becomes honorable by being necessary.”-Nathan Hale
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Rowena Aitken - Illustrator
Sketchblog
Livestream
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