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Beauty Incarnate. My supposed handle for the record.
Some people call me the one with everlasting youth.
Some, the man that never grew up.
But many know me as Gray. Dorian Gray.

I've been through an age beyond your time.
Multiple lifetimes. Countless events.
Once you seen one thing, you will see them again.
All the time, and time again.
The messes created by those savages eventually fade.
Washing away into the vast sea of history.
With this, it only rinses itself and repeat the same ordeal.
But none of this madness is of my own concern.

Beauty beheld on the outside, with my essence held elsewhere.
Did you ever wonder why I never aged? Not even for one day's toll.
My painting was my own exact likeness. Not one flaw was noticable.
And all I cared about was my own captivating beauty and nothing else.
The painting of my own spitting image would bear the burden of age.
And every sin deadly will come at me as though tomorrow never came.
Wrath, lust, gluttony, greed, envy, sloth and pride.
Embodiment of the immortal and immoral body of humans.

However, no one person can love me for who I am.
For terrible fates looms over those who hover around sin.
And I am one that can never cease to exist.
As long as that painting still hangs in my private quarters.