Its funny when sometimes history repeats itself in ways you can never imagine. Sometimes they repeat for the worse, for the better, and sometimes it seems like a repetitive dilemma. Recently I was pondering - maybe this is the opening to set things right of what I did back then in the same situation. But there is one thing i still lack, which is self control, I guess. I think that this is the part of me that I never learn, even if history repeats a hundred times.I try not to hope, but maybe a little bit of hope wouldn't hurt. Alas, the time has come again where the petrified heart of mine to start beating, slowly and steadily.

Oh..well. I'm lost for words to say. But here is an ode.

Once more the journeyman sets off,
To search of the blue rose,
A path that could make him go soft,
As passion starts to move close.

An urban legend it may be,
Yet here he is - Firaga - scorching a path,
Believing in the small chance that it could be
Not a lie - holding on to this single faith.

If the journey proves fruitful -
Firaga will grasp happiness,
And rectify what is uneventful,
To be cured of this sickness.


Adieu, good night.

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