Running. Muscles. Worn. I jump and leap. 


I force myself into intense moments to moan out in pain. Aching all my days. 


Sweat breaks. Moods tense. Teeth clenched. Fighting for blood. I indulge the intense emotion to drive, to jump, to drown it all out. 


To prevail- a fight just of fighting. Anxiousness pervades my dreams. Don’t stop. Never stop. Pull the sword. Be the blade.


No remorse. 

  • Author: Sunshinefalling (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 6th, 2019 21:21
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 23
  • User favorite of this poem: whisperingquill.
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  • Suresh

    If only we could whisk our pain away.
    Nicely done

    • Sunshinefalling

      Yes. Thanks. Then we would no longer need to fight bc we would win without the requirement of battle.

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