Dorian-Gray• Show poetry

Immortal and seductive, I was one of the most dangerous men in the 19th century. A vain young aristocrat, a picture of me was painted when I was in the prime of life. Overwhelmed by a fear of my own mortality, I made a wish that the painting would age for me, while I remained young forever. By some still unidentified magic, this wish came true. I simply can't be killed.

I spent a great deal of time in the pursuit of pleasure, reveling in my inability to die. Due to my painting, I could walk though a hail of bullets and come out with only a few holes in my suit. However, I eventually began to murder, killing a woman who loved me and the man who painted my picture . With each passing year my painting aged, showing every wound I took- and the signs of every sin I ever committed. Eventually, things reached a stage where I had only to look upon the painting to break the spell, and I constantly kept it covered up. I also took to carrying a sword round with me, disguised as a stick to make it less obvious. I had numerous small affairs, including one which was particularly close to whatever remained of my heart.