The Fallen A Time To Sleep A Time To Wake Comments

High above, sitting on his ledge, to himself he is to think. I am neither nor am I heard. I am as ghost. I try and I try, oh how hard I do try, but I must, I mustn’t cry, but now instead his hazel eyes grow moist. A heavy line and scarred face is stained by years.

Such a said faith for this one of light, personally known for the slayings of both the serpent and a dragon, should have never become one of the fallen.
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