The Tale of a Battle

I heard of a horn

That held the ocean entire;

And I feel, now, like I’m staring down its barrel,

The bittersweetness of war

At its very finest,

The pinnacle of the battle

Playing out in front of me,

Swords clashing,

Guns clanging,

And me,

In its midst,


By the chaos
Save for the blood

Burning red

On my hands.


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A poet driven by the quill, a dreamer of impossible dreams, a lover of that which the world has deemed unlovable. We're all stories in the end. This is mine.

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