# Ready to Forgive I am ready to forgive the cruelties of your silence, the way you turned away when I needed your eyes most. I am ready to forgive the words you swallowed, those small betrayals that bloomed like weeds in the garden we once tended together. I am ready to forgive the distance you chose, the excuses you wore like expensive coats you could shed whenever you pleased. I am ready to forgive— not because you have asked, not because time has made me wise, but because I am tired of carrying the weight of your failings in the chambers of my chest. I am ready to forgive the way you forgot the promise we made under stars that have since burned out. I am ready to forgive myself, perhaps most of all, for believing in the kindness I saw reflected in your face— that beautiful, necessary lie. I am ready to forgive because forgiveness is not absolution, is not a gift I place at your feet, but a door I close quietly behind me as I learn, at last, to walk away.

I don't have the strength, my friend...to fight.
I have not learned to fight.
Alone, if I must, I'll wander among wolves.
White streams through the hair. And a melancholy couplet.
A knife in the back. Unbearably cruel things.

I'm in pain today, my friend, I'm worn down.
Tired of the malice in human hearts.
I carry the heavy weight of the soulless—
those who keep digging at my grave.

There is a place for everyone on this Earth,
yet not everyone finds it.
With the good I will always be good,
and with the wicked too. But they don't comprehend...

I ask you, my friend, should
the Devil take my hand today,
sprinkle my heartless honor with
heartlessness, and bid me rise?

I did not wish, my friend, to remake
this world, dressed in ink!
Believe me, I have strived for this my whole life!
Perhaps I failed to become human!

Today, those who stood beside me leave, one by one.
There, in the crowd, my friend, and your back
is among those who could not understand...

They did not understand that I wanted a friendly shoulder,
I was seeking hearts sincerely pure.
The masks lie below now. And I see only
faces twisted by malice...

And my own face, mine, smiles again,
pulls the rusted knife from its sheath.
Then, drop by drop, the wound subsides.
And I'm ready to forgive again.