The Fallen Swan

I don’t know who or what I am.
They called me beautiful, as radiant as a swan. A swan that was worshipped by the world.
But that’s a memory of the past. In fact, I don’t remember much of the past. It burns my soul to recall the events.
I see his face wherever I go. I hear her voice in an empty room.
The mirrors shatters as I enter a room.
My accomplishments are repressed thoughts because who cares, right?
But everyone says this was my fate.
I was destined to be the fallen angel.

My body is broken and my mind is a twisted labyrinth.

The swan has fallen. And so has the world.

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