The burden of the scar is over

Such is the way of life.

pitiful and full of despair...
can there ever be a gem in it all?

tears flow freely,
nothing seems to slightly matter now.

an almost peaceful and eerie spell is casted.
green light flashes,
we are blind.

death is not more than a deep slumber,
which we all must follow and imitate eventually.

and yet some can never acknowledge this fact,
and arise from the coldness and past.

escaping death is not for gloating;
a heavy price is paid for that luck.

the war's end is the goal now,
and you have completed it...

all the spells and blood you gave,
all the scars upon a single scar,
and the burden of your name...
it's now over.

who are you, scarred boy?