What is seen when the mask is put to the side? What lays beneath the cape, when you're not the hero anymore? What does the crown cover, when you're no longer praised? What?
Beneath the mask, reveals every spectrum of raw emotion Like a butchery of hanging stories behind these misty eyes My cape covers the scars, that trample my skin like footprints of my journey And my crown? Is just a reflection of my golden mind, That sparkles every time that I think about you
— Nanda Regine
From "Inside Her Roses"
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