I love you all,
Even if I have nothing to show for it.
I'm sorry for being trouble.

Forget Me.

I'll be gone sooner than you know.
I ask you all something,
Promises you must keep;

Forget Me,

I want you all to live,
I want you all to live a full life
Where you'll never have to weep,
And

Forget Me.

These promises, you must keep.

I will value you more than myself.
My life will be yours.
All that I do will be in consideration of you.
I will trust you till the end.
I will believe in your love.
I will do all within my power to keep us together.

These are my vows.

If I suspect anything of you,
I will reserve judgement.
If you are sorry,
I will forgive.
If you want to leave me,
No longer I will live.

These are my vows...

...

...Where are yours?

These are not
The hands they once were.
The hands that were young,
The hands that had been pierced by the thorns of a rose.

These are not
The eyes they once were.
The eyes that saw clearly.
The eyes that dimmed as the world around him became more obscure.

This is not
The mind it once was.
The mind that was innocent,
The mind that came under stress
As it fathomed the thought
That his friends had died on the front lines.

These are not
The arms they once were.
The arms that wrapped around his first love as they danced,
The arms that had fractured when a grenade detonated a meter away.

These are not
The legs they once were.
The legs that carried him on youthful energy,
And now required support to allow him to walk.

This is not
The heart it once was.
The heart that loved,
That cared for his friends,
That heart that was now slowly fading away.

This is not
The man he once was.
His life changed him.
Though you might say for the worse,
I say for the better.

We Fall.
It is what we are.
It is the Nature of us all.
And It always leaves its scars.

We Fall.
There is no other way.
We find we cannot deviate
From this life that is a play.

Written by an author
Who has no fitting name.

We Soar.
It is what we do.
What we desire in our very core
Is to become anew.

We Soar.
From that we cannot stray.
We cannot seem to run
From this life that is a play.

Written by an author
Who has no fitting name.

Persistence.
The Key to the future.
Knowledge and Strength,
Both mean nothing.

If you become paralyzed,
What will strength do?
If you are scared to the point you can't think,
What will knowledge do?

Persistence.
It knows no bounds.
Can one not be persistent enough to climb mountains?
Can one not be persistent enough to change a nation?

And
Can one not be persistent enough to alter generations?

It has rained.
Oh, for years, it has rained.
Heaven cries for the murderer.
It cries for the outcast.

I have tried and failed
To the point of nearly giving in,
But the rain reminds me.
'Press on, press on'.

The outcast longs to be needed.
The murderer longs to make up for his sins.
Oh, for years, it has rained.
It has rained.

This is not me,
This is a Mask,
And I will be the first to admit it.

This is not me,
This is a Shell,
Decorated to mislead
And Protect all that keeps me going.

The mask of a joker,
Made to entertain,
And divert their attention
From my self,
To my words.

The mask of a liar,
That says,
"I AM COMPLETE!
I have no regrets."
When I truly regret much of
That which is hidden.