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The Plea and The Promise of Return

I am indeed the anarchist and the hopelessly aspirant of glories. A reflection of the desperate past that has passed over the same soul to me. The anger, the violence, chaotic, my childhood was but a waste, the product of discipline and fear but I do laud the principles and the kind of consciousness it has brought unto me, but it is allergic to the person to whom I love so dear. I am but to change and I wish not to keep what is ill for her and that men are destined to change only to those to whom they love so dear.

Fighting fire with fire is Shakespeare, but not Johannah Joy Batiancila. Vengeance is not in her heart but her softness and purity makes her divine to forgive without regret. I am but the fool, the arrogant, the ignorant and the bastard. The whole world was my toy and now it seems that I am been discarded as one because of who I am. But still I can change.

Now is my trial and no other woman did made me bend my knees and shut my pride, to cry and to beg as if I am of no worth, but she is to see me rise from the ashes to make her happy. She needs but air to breath to make her happy. She needs to explore yet the world before settling down to face a life of commitment with no regrets. And I am here, shameful of my sins, bowing to the will of the heavens for forgiveness and she did forgave me, but  what better pardon else is there than to be accepted again as her love.

Now is the time that I will listen to her, change my old ways, prove to her that I am still the man for her. I have been burned and crucified but now is the time to arise. I will win you back, I know it is still is us, I pray that it is still us. Never have I loved a woman before, and never shall I bestow it to anyone else than to you. Let it be you still, and I shall show to you what a changed man I have become to be again readily accepted in your arms once again. This is my only plea and battle cry.

I am hopeful. I love you.

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