A cocky child, clutching to a fiction scene 

my brain reenacted in repetition. Young bird, pushed 

from a nest by their own self esteem. 

My dearest self, you were in bliss and always

hopelessly ignorant. You decided a path and now we

reap the consequences with shattered pride 

and glowing eyes.

These consistent thoughts, always terrorizing our mind.

To this day, I can still feel the rolling waves of depleted energy

from that night. The moon shattered and

all you could do was watch it crash and kill. 

We are no longer a soldier in stained armor, still, 

it’s been a year and we beg to go on another.

I wear the scars with this chin up, but unknown in our own skin. 

You would be proud. 

We are proud.

– Fell-ow’s