The hand that penned those words was mine, but the soul behind them the crimson flame and silver tongue that spoke them isn't me anymore.
I'm not her; Hell I'm barely me. I remember her in the way one remembers a long lost friend. Distantly and with fond thoughts. Those words are no longer my words for I am not that soul. I am a shell of who I was. A broken, tired, warrior fought too long. I've lost her hope her happiness. I've watched her dreams die. I've given up everything she wanted. I've changed
I don't know who I'll become or where I'm going but I'm not her anymore.