Me Me. I am a quitter. I am weak. Today I chose a path that others dare to seek. I took that dare for my own reasons, trading hope for some ripped jeans and and a black tee shirt. That graveyard awaits; full if others who have given up. My faulty ways have caused grief, do you expect me to sieve through all this nothingness? I don't think so. My soul is dark, I have rain, but now bows. I am not special. I am weak. I have created a path that is worn, but full of tests, still untaken by the wrath, that I hope says You may pass.

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