The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility.

Yes Sir!
The last he ever said,
The last many ever said
Generations of dead
Crawling out to us in our beds
Today's war was yesterday made
Think twice
A word of the wise
If you've been too many times
You've said the words
And you may not realized
What you write
Is your last cry.

I daydreamed to the point,
Where we seemed like a reality.

my hope
begins to grow again
a bloom
still tightly furled

one time
you were my world
but I know
there are many worlds