I see so many lost souls when I look around. Wounded people desperate for a father or a mother, or both. Where did all the fathers and mothers go? Or was it the children who ran away and now bitterly regret it?
My heart aches for them. All these strong and capable souls, the crying and pitiful ones, and the hard-hearted and ruined ones. All broken-hearted.
And I'm helpless to help them. I, the strongest, most pitiful and ruined one, the soul of a thousand broken shards.
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