Withstand The Spoken

The influence within the air, the consistency of the waters edging flow, the soft flying petal elegantly disappear distantly and gradually.

An old age of very victorious and valiant pirates came and went, out with the old and in with the new age. An applause I gave from afar.

My hands feel cold and tingle like a withering sensation on dead grass beneath my feet; how well I recall the feeling, that of which was beneath my very feet on a battlefield. I almost relish in the fact I've brought the ugliness of the beauty of the greenery out of the world.

For as long as the sky as been up in its place, the waters have been blue, and the grass was anew of a green.

I was taught the water is purely clear as glass but the blue from the sky was that of a colorful tint which fated the tint to the frothy waters.

I hunger to be of greater new, a new color to dishevel the waters and make the world my coloring book, give the green a yellow, the blue a red, one from the prettiest of roses, not the blood of enemies nor myself would have to shed for that.

Violence is a pastime.

The new life that comes to grow and pass will forever remember the sky isn't one color as long as my name was written in books and boasted by family all around the world.

I was just one little village kid with a fascinating dream that made me race across life itself just to achieve, I cannot recall the last time I felt like a kid.

Perhaps growing up too fast was wrong; never had I ever thought I'd see the day I'd be overlooking the ocean with a new gaze. Eyes of wisdom and pure experience raw of imagination.

Not one of longing, not one of happiness. I am everything but content. Why should I be? I have nowhere to go. I've done my did, not to relish or bask in it any longer, I completed what I did originally set out to do regardless of side quests that halted my being.

The new age was created and structured by my will and purity with a cause to bring people and friend to family together.

But that of which I feel is of no good questionable choice. I will not will myself to continue to question whether of not my choice in choosing a different freedom than others pictured was of good cause.

I am the cause and I am good.

When I look down to the grass beneath my crossed legs, I get tickled. It would've hurt me if I tripped and hit a rock, it would've been the soil I could've been long dead on. Anyone could've.

It's absolute pure fate and fortune I hadn't done that- I changed fate for all of humanity. That's what my brothers used to say I would do. I would bring of a new age and difference that even the World Government would despise me for.

Knowing my eldest kin was right, his smirk is all I can distinguish and perceive as I peer forwards, grazing the grass beneath my finger tips as if the grass itself I made would break under a pound of pressure.

Grass doesn't break per say, it bends until it cannot.

You shall step and step until it falters for a second and you twist the footing you gathered until it's all gone and nothing left to be.

Sometimes, I wouldn't ever say it, life in itself can be of anything, especially that feeling.

The life I was given was so strained and rushed I never felt like I was grateful enough for it. Sure, the piracy I was able to live through, the breaking the rules I never knew to care for, the adventures were blissful.

I harmonize at night with the old musical tunes of instruments, but that doesn't mean I was fluent in living.

I survived everyday with an arrow pointed at my back and a gun at my eye.