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) - Published: February 6th, 2019 21:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- User favorite of this poem: whisperingquill.
Offline)
Comments1
If only we could whisk our pain away.
Nicely done
Yes. Thanks. Then we would no longer need to fight bc we would win without the requirement of battle.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.