The Beginning

Friday marks the end of another year, the beginning of a new summer. But like all flowers, friday will wilt, and you will forget I am standing here, you will forget that I will soon be a fallen warrior. A warrior who faught for you when no one else would, who hurt others to see you smile. Oh what a wicked warrior I was. A small soul, with many mirrors, which is the real reflection? Only your eyes could see. But you lied and crushed my mirrors, threatening to crush my world. A fallen warrior I may have been, but I rose, to deprive you of the power you once had. The fist you threw at my mirror was caught by a wounded warrior, who faught for you. Yet, you forget. You forget that despite the wounds you have given me, I faught for you, expecting nothing in return, but never did you stop to think that the winds of karma would lay its soft, cold winds on your back. I sang to you the song of my soul, I sang to you the song of my sparrow. I sang to you the song of my sorrows. I strummed the melodies of the laughter. But you never seemed to appreciate what I once was, nor did you appreciate what I have become. Smiles may rest upon thy lips, but a twisted motive lies within thy heart. What seemed to be my only hope was at the hands of my twisted mind. Thine mind could not hold my shadowed hand.You claim to have been very renound, however, my heart bleeds pure, yours bleeds pure, however yours does not beat in thy chest. My sword does not touch thy lips, the mask you wear I have shattered, however thy lonliness shines through thy shattered mask. I smile upon thine ugliness, as it is what I had seen in me once. My smile does not twist into spite, nor does twist into pity. The curves in my lips should signify, thine pain has yet to begin. My eyes signify, thy fear is visible. The grip on my weapon loose, should signify, I need not slay thou, thy mask has shattered, and thy pain has yet to begin but yet to end.