Oh-What I've become! I've become a commodity that is traded by many, touched by many, but loved by none. I'm the commodity whose skin has clawmarks and fingerprints of many, indelible, recurring yet forced to forget.  I yearn for the sunrise in someone's arms, but I end up banging people's beds under the sinful moonlight. Now I hate my nights; it makes me degenerate. A shuddering addict suffered from a malady whose cure was once true love, but the lovers freakin love bolted. Did the shards of mine while I was breaking down cut you in some way? Ember from my burning love burned you in some way. A malady created by your addiction.  While withdrawing from you, I pushed myself into a portal of thousands of shallow seekers whos eyes were beckoning the gaze of Hyeans and . .... I let them hunt down on me while I tried only to find the love—a shrouded drug—that once you injected me.