Nothing exudes his bland skin.
His temperament always remains the same.
You can call him ideal or insane.
You may call him emotionless or maimed.
The thoughts in his head never burden him.
Not so much as others who are brought down by anomalies.
By human relations that they are always fighting for.
Fighting to stabilize and bring balance to their life's vitality.
An aura of deathly cold mist shrouds his pale attractive face.
A dim black veil covers his eyes every moment one is near.
This separates him from the others that are constantly struggling.
Makes sure no emotion emanates from inside his reserved demeanor.
The cold one, he is known as, nothing can he ever feel.
No love can he bestow, none can he ever feel flowing inside.
There is no hatred either and no sense of meaning whatsoever.
There is only hunger, only lust, never fearful,
The animal, the predator that lives within his hide.
Lost Among the Rings of Saturn
13 hours ago