How does it feel to be the puppeteer with bloody hands, still refusing to wipe them off? How does it feel to be the lost map on someone’s journey? How does it feel to be the question if waking up in the morning isn't a waste of time? How does it feel to be the king of bodies that aren’t yours? How does it feel to be the nightmare that makes all the pretty dreams disappear? How does it feel to be the hate that turns against its owner? How does it feel to be the scar on someone’s wrist? How does it feel to be the running blood, and someone’s last memory? How does it feel to be the killer still never convicted?