The Saint

The Saint


He never quite liked his name.

His life was built and based upon a thing called FATE.


The things he saw were not so sweet.

To find his heart, he was forced to see,

The ghosts of many, the ghost of She.

He wanted simplicity, not vivid haunting dreams. 


He was destined to save us all, 

To help maintain humanity. 

He cherished a love long lost,

And guided the broken and botched.


A hero, they called him, while he breathed. 

A hero, he claimed to never be. 

They bestowed upon him medals, 

But he always remained humble. 

Loved by many, his hands never too steady.


He never did feel so ready,

As he lay bleeding, calmed by a voice so friendly.

He was ready to find his heart, to see his promise kept.

For doing all he did, for trying his very best.


He flew so very high up above,

When it came time to meet his long lost love.

And there he met all the rest, the ones he helped in distress.


She held him in a simple dress.

The Hero had found his long lost heart.

Yes, the promise had been kept. 

The promise that they'd meet again, only in death. 


The Hero found his heart at last,

Though he now was known by a different name.

The Hero who refused to claim his glory and fame,

The Hero was now The Saint.



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