My hero's weathered
forehead
My inflictions
stress  of
wrinkly skin
but the focus
is replaced pain
to  numb-ness
of his eyes.
Whistling of whispers
flowing
white of ancient
hair,
memories  like long
forgotten fleets
I come to realize,
Pride replaced
by shame,
and which is
the greater sin?
Who am I?
or I that became.....