At night, while the others sleep, some walk a tightrope as practice. But when darkness threatens to consume their souls, it is the reflection off broken glass that will guide them into the light. It is the goodness in the atrocious that will lead their way.
To this day, I remember their faces.
Written for and dedicated to Michael Monrones.
As always, well said.
Well the ending was... Unexpected to say the least, but a beautiful poem that touched me. Thank you. Oh wait okay I reread the last part discord was trying to stop him now it makes much more sense.
He died