Beneath this pretty smile of mine
hides silent tears I cry.
For what I once owned
is just but a tale told
I am a wounded soul
In the darkest corner, I hide and bleed
wounded and bruised
from Cupid's shooting spree.
Source
Now my heart is filled with rage
Cupid was the last to die of my blade
I am comforted by the nocturnal nightingale
The fire dies out and the screaming stops
All that's left, ashes and dust
I fall to my knees covered in blood and sweat.
This rugged soldier has very little he frets
I won the war but I lost myself for I am sauciatis.
When I go home, perhaps I might find peace
Find a needle and thread,
and my wound I might stitch
The people look up to me as a hero
But when I search my reflection,
I do not see the man I know
All I see is a rugged wounded soul.