#rainy circle

The stink of these bitter memories are twisting my heart, working it in ways impossible to reconcile. Since I can't discard these memories, I'll instead carve out new memories, from the stage of the abyss, and the audience against the zenith.

Since I can't access the contents of my own memories, then I'll instead abandon the "old life" as it was, if it was at all. 

And when I awoke, only the rain remained. So I'll drift; find others who understand the pain caused by this world, and the adults who bring the rain.

I recognize the shackles of the heart in everyone's soul, just as I had... You can call me Stigma, and I'll be the one to free this world. Everyone, please, listen to me for a bit. 

We know more then anyone the lash the world gives to those who dream, the lash wielded by the very same people who were once dreamers themselves. The lash that is the chief weapon for hypocrites and the imprisoned. The rain, the thing which they call sin, in our hearts is proof of that. Its also proof of the sun and moon, the light and dark we shaped with our own hands.