Inanimate

Centuries old, like a dragon who is getting cold, the fire inside has turned to smoke, a once bright future has been revoked. Tortured inside, an Opheliac, once I'm gone I won't be back. The things they've done have damaged me, in ill repair, heart withering. Nothing will revive my trust, no lust for life, I've hurt too much. Waiting for death year after year, too upset to shed a tear, I know the truth, I don't belong here. Full of pain from mortal souls, I'll leave them all and take control. My life is mine, at least what's left, all hope is gone, casualty of theft.