Nineteen

It's her enigmatic smile
that makes seeing her worthwhile.
Her portrait's what I will weave
in my mind, until I leave.

Eighteen

He who looks at the tip of the cane,
is worth the name for a savage.
The moon, pointed out the window pane,
by the baston's tip of the sage.

Seventeen

I now accept, it wasn't me -
the man who bloated your belly.
Why take away my chance to see
and love, take child away from me?

Sixteen

Of all the many various things that I will cast
away, are things that splintered fingers of my past.
It will be such a task for me to beat
myself, and relocate ill-ingrained feet.

Fifteen

To those who claim the spotlight,
as to what they do at night.
Casting off their masquerade -
out of themselves, fools they've made.

Fourteen

Anyone can play the tune of Bach,
or something else, some other classic track
at night - to wake up in glorious day,
they board their jets and they go bombs away!

Thirteen

Peering though my iron helm -
Before me, foes that overwhelm.
I clutch my sword and spear,
life or death, I'm halfway near.