No, children.
You may not stand at my side.
We live in different worlds, you and I.
Hell is my life, these tortures woven from my own guilt.
Paradise is your home,
Buffering your innocence from the corruptions of the world around.

These battles of my life are no place for you.
My sins have taken life and form, hounding me relentlessly.
Each cause I champion challenges the cynicism of the world,
Making the world around my foe.

Never-ending journey lies before me, stretching behind and before me eternally.
Rest and stillness are not mine to have, lest I ruin all beside me.
With no past, I have no home.
Homeless, I have no ties.
Without ties, I have no past.

Turbulent storms engulf me,
Raining the torment of regret upon my head.
Any who dare risk these storms would certainly drown.
They would drown in the surging flood my own growing evil.

So please, children, leave me behind.
Allow me the peace of fading to naught but a terrible memory,
A horrendous, twisted night-terror.
Under the burden of forgotten memories,
Perhaps I shall finally discover peace.