With the moon at times, my only friend.
I long to remember the beginning of the end.

The memories that take refuge inside a hollow, dismantled heart, aching with agony and can no longer pretend.

They have felt the passion that burns within. And in an instant it was put out like in.

The memories know not what to do with the past. For all they wanted was a love that would last.

so what becomes of a man with a broken man?

He goes to war....