Lose me in all sense of myself and place me among the fantasy martyrs. Bring me a death worthy of dreams. Let people remember my face on the back of a golden penny. Have them throw me in a wishing well and let them know that I would never break my promise to them. Consume my body in the form of ash and spread me across the span of reality and let them know that when they dream it is me that lets them. I will hold their hand and cradle their bruised wishes in my arms and whisper fairytales in sprinkled silence. I will shield them against time and battle the truth of life to spare their innocence. I will do all this because I know what it is like to fall from grace. To fall so low that all hopes of every rising again burns along with your sins. I will save them in hope of restoring myself.

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