I choose to believe what I was programmed to believe
My breastplate is made of glass, and I invite the neighborhood kids to throw rocks at it. Sooner than later my armor will shatter, and the prize that they take home to their parents is my smile for the night. When I look straight at my bed I don't think of you like I did, now all I ever think about are the people who might sleep in it, and never come back just like you never came back in the end. So I'll slump my body to my half-connected sheets, and slowly descend. My helmet is covered in flames, and I invite the fire department to dump water on me, and all that's left is a smoldering pile, of a once lengthy smile