Zero's Third Update (along with the original poem: "The Truth that Hurts")

I think I have begun to understand the nature of my stories. In a way, they are my own personal coping mechanisms. Through them, I can easily find myself coping with all sorts of demonic possessions, merely because I redirect the energy into something else. My obsession with one girl, often depicted in my more recent works, has quickly faded. It seems to fade alongside the nanowrimo novel that I am writing. The more that I focus on the story, and flow those twisted emotions into a character who is separate from myself, yet also another aspect of myself. Styr is a representation of a lack of control over one's self. In this sense, he is quite like Kuna Zero, the character in "The Beginning of The End", who is described as being an aspect of control once. By "once" I mean that he was described in such a way before the chaos took over. Much like Styr, the chaos dominates his life and he tries to find order and peace among it. Metaphorically, you can say, they share the same basic storyline. It is merely their choices that put them apart from each other. The novel itself has been going well, hitting 37 thousand words tonight. "The Beginning of The End" is going quite well as well, beating the nanowrimo novel at 40 thousand words. One week from today I will be participating in an open mic night at my college. I'm reciting poetry, and wrote a couple poems a week or two ago to recite. Sadly, it seems, I have hit a writer's block in regards to my poetry. The girl who reminds me of Marie-Lynn has long since left my thoughts, directly after I realized how unlike the two are. I am but a fickle teenager, after all. The goddess (merely using the description given to her by Styr) has faded from her throne, leaving my beliefs to rest upon humanity. I have become both the light and the dark.
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The Truth that Hurts

It is not through hate that I disappear,

Slipping from your fingers into the night,

Nor is it through love that I disappear,

Taking after another in the daylight.

Have you ever bothered looking at me,

The often forgotten lost boy turned back?

Have you ever bothered listening to me,

The truth bearing human about to crack?

You chase after me as I disappear,

As I become the very thing I wanted.

You come after me as I disappear,

As I no longer become the haunted.

Now you should understand,

That the rage I feel is not rage.

Now even I understand,

Now that my age has taught me.

Feel no rage,

Only pity remains.

-Zero