Original Writing

Fighter Or A Hero

My limbs were numb, my voice was cold, I couldn’t look him in the eye. I didn’t want to live like him but I didn’t want to die.

Like a fighter, you had raised me with a blade between my teeth.

I couldn’t control the force within me, it needed to be released.

and when he finally came for me, down inside the caves, he picked me up and carried me; he cleansed me in the waves.

My limbs were numb, my voice was cold, I couldn’t look him in the eye.

I didn’t want to live like him but I didn’t want to die.

I was swallowed whole, with a lamp and a pen, and here I write protected.

Together we will bring him here and fight till he’s elected.

My savior was and is a freak, with nature on his side. Rebirth never came with a word to his name and the dying ambers cried.

So here I lay, perhaps existing, praying to be at peace.

I’ll never be more than some hair and skin, but I’ll still sing at the least.

And when the great fight is upon us, we’ll be cradled in the arms of an angel fit to bear the weight of our death, hate, and our charms.

1 comment on “Fighter Or A Hero

  1. Pingback: The Art Of Dining Alone – Slow Boat Library

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