Sunday, June 28, 2009

And when my days are over, how will you remember me?

Nothing is quite as it seems, at least not for me. I’ve been so many years inside this prison, in this shell I call myself, too many years for one little fight. My bones are aching and my will has dissipated. My life only hangs on the last thread of hope I have left. And all the words of wisdom never seem to ease the pain,’ cause the gateway from the land of my dreams has been shut.
So I surrender and admit to my shortcomings. I accept the fact that it makes no difference where I turn, for I will not make any impact, nor will I change my destiny. Sir Lancelot will never find the Grail, and even if he did, it will probably be too late. I have chosen to live my life in the wrong era and was forced to live it in the wrong place. Although I never believed in martyrdom, I believed (at a certain time) in a noble cause; but now I know that there are no noble men.
47 years wasted, so I lay me down to sleep.
If only I could !

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