Everyone thinks the same Yet no one is really thinking Often they push you to your limit Yet you suppress your anger Perhaps, to make

The purest form of love Is the love of a blind man Who knows not the beauty of one Nor the ugliness of another Only

The long journey lies ahead in its vastness Eventually ending in utter joy or bitterness Determined to find my jewel and cherish it forever The

My thoughts are seeds that I hope to grow In this world where soldiers fight, yet the king is the hero But who am I