PoetrySad Poems

The Combat

My brain panicked
As the torches were lit
My heart shattered
As they combed where I hid

All was sour
Not even the slightest premonition
Even in the downpour of the rain
I emitted the sweat of a nation

Captive of pain
Slave to anger
I care not for the gain
Just the chains to be fettered

Succumb to this feeling?
No, I’ll not
I rather fight it
Than in guilt rot

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