And that night he wept for the child he once was,
the memories he lost,
the careless smile he used to have,
Standing atop the cliff, with a raging storm behind, the sea below waiting to claim him,
his fears, realized infront of him,
stripped off his mask, the husk was all there was,
and yet a part of him still clinged to it,
to the sadness that drove him there,
the glimpse of that child he so hopelessly mourned.
It frightened him, to lay bare for everyone to see,
for himself to see, their cold gaze, judging.
Was this the price to pay?
He could see thorugh the storm the brittle yellow fields he came from, inviting, calling to him from a dream like state,
to put on the mask is to live a lie.
And as he stood there, a resolution crept through his skull,
"The Rains will fall on the brittle fields and give way to the green of spring, and so must you change and grow, for there are things that break us, but only to make us whole again".