My definition of a beautiful place is anywhere but here. Here is my mind. Here is full of chaos and death. The wolves kill the people of my memories and the dragons turn it all to ash. I once sat upon the throne at the top but that spot has been stolen from me. My mind is now governed by one who takes my name and wears my face. Their sinister grin as they destroy all I've created fits my face much too kindly. Maybe I never got ripped away from my throne. Maybe something snapped and I felt the need to destroy all the things that made me human. And maybe I forced myself to believe it wasn't me in order to cope with the reality that I am not what I should be. My memories don't reflect what I am. I am not the sum of my experiences. I am wrong