From different sides

Yesterday night I spoke to my sister, complaining about my recent emotional condition, whinning how much I would like find some who would understand me completely. Then my lovely sister told me something that obviously pushed the right butting in my head. "Simon, I would like you to find some, whom you would understand completely instead" - she said. I started to process all my past relationships and friendships and believe me, oblivion of my own discovery scared me to the very soul. Anyway, I had to write something that would serve both as the appology and the confession.
For my sister, for people who happened to became victims of my self-centred living and myself.

There is a line painted in shame and lust,

It runs down through the forrest echos and sight,

Faces of those who passed but still in presence,

Faces of those whom I loved untill turning the book's pages

I'm tasting my empire made of bone and dust,

It's a bitter taste of freedom with the sweeter smell of brass.

Thought you might consider myself as a king,

I'm just a deceiver, who's putting souls on string,

Collecting soundless pieces of shattered hearts in stain,

Torturing the spirits, whom I dug up just to play.

I'm sitting in the forrest, shadows move around,

There is new deceiver coming – he will put me down.

He will fool me a like puppet driven by third hand.

Notice that I'm altered by the end of play.

I'm king no longer, I'm just face on tree,

Lurker among the lurkers, a shade with human needs.