A poem about Squall:
With his gunblade on his shoulder,
He felled so much older,
With his face in the rain,
He almost didn't feel the pain,
Thinking about the life's he ended,
But now he was the one being stranded,
It was that look in her eyes,
That made him say his last goodbyes,
She doesn't love him anymore,
And that was eating at his core,
He took his blade and killed himself,
Meanwhile knocking over a shelve,
There was blood all over the floor,
And from that moment his heart didn't beat anymore,
He had ended his own life,
Because he couldn't live without his wife.