I think people who are like me, people who are like us, got left behind somewhere. Hopeless romantics wandering through this plane of unimagined existence, trying to escape from the past we clinge to, and grasp the future we solemnly fear. We look at the stars and see our dreams conjure before our very eyes. We gaze at the moon and make wish upon wish, hoping the vast power of the universe heeds our call. We love foolishly and too often, always with full force and little judgement. We wait for moments, and once they arrive, we lose ourselves in them, dying for the chance to live a life worth living - one of choices that alter the very fabric of our being. We are the lost souls, forever set upon the boulevard of broken hearts, with a single tear in our eyes, that stupid grin on our face and the willpower in our mind, to never give up.
He is left with little to say, and the impossible to overcome. With fewer people each passing month, and greater challenges ahead. With a blunt sword and shattered shield. With fading stamina and a blurry vision. With blood shot eyes and a voice barely able to scream. With pride in his soul and solace in his heart. With resolve in his stride and with pain in his body. With all of this, even after everything, even against all odds, even against everyone who ever stood by his side, he will try to fix you.
