i have a month. i have watched my reality break and diffuse in a matter of seconds before. in a month i can build a ship, a ship to carry me away from playthings and weaklings and ambiguity. in a month i can rebuild the hull i have broken down over the years. the sails are hidden in my palms; and my eyes hold on to steady winds. i have a month. a month to change history and future. aren't they mere reflections of one another? if i see myself weak in the stories past, i shall always remain a cripple. 

the time has come to wear my mane with pride once more. 
i am done killing for fun, i shall have my glory.