I long for the days when peace and serenity were common place, instead of skating the periphery. Before Id embraced the sacred, cynical symmetry. No enemies, all friendly. If only Id known just when to end it. A quill and ink was all I need to become what I wanna be. But then it changed, and now Im stuck here wondering what Im gonna be. Feeling like a wannabe, living in obscenity. Id give it all to feel again the touch of sweet serenity.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Mayan, in the year 827 AF.