The words of me,
the words of you.
The words of we,
Heh, who knew?

We sit quiet here for hours,
Other times we search for flowers.
Then we have these moments,
Ones where we are oppenents.

The ones we often ponder,
which cause us to wonder.
It's the thrill of this chase,
that leads to the embrace.

Then the pain has left,
While the fire burns brighter.
Never stopping to rest,
We live the path of fighters.

But...

I just want to be a writer.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Scarlatan, in the year 702 AF.