Looking back on the pictures of the past

I see a tall blonde spikey haired young man

But that young man is holding my sword

The young man who I remember faintly from the past


The past has always been a myth to me

The people who rescued me told me that

I was a small but powerful young man

At least that is what I know for sure


My friends, family, and future

Have all dissipated along with my legs

My legs have been destroyed in an accident

The villagers have told me so


All these years I have waited

Training for this very day

My feeble heart pounds into my ears

Silently awaiting the man who killed my soul