Reaper:

Within the dark enshrouded catacombs I roam. People I avoid because I'm paranoid. Deep within this everblack I can be seen dawning a hooded robe that's long and flowy red. A Demon hunter hunting demons in my own head. With scars on my flesh from wounds that bled and bled. Every single day and every single night always feel the same. No shred of hope on the horizon. No light upon this darkened plane of existence. And just another ghost with my eyes and the same name. And yet I'm called a freak. Here I lay on my deathbed. Go on and break the cage inside my chest. Grasp my heart and feel it beating in this fleeting life. Death comes quickly when skewered by the Reapers' scythe.