I've been here
countless times
feet dug into the ground,
still as the wind brushes
my hair back.
Like some sort of warrior;
the warrior in me
marches along
with the survivor in you.
We've been here
before, holding the bow,
nocking it, inevitably missing
its intended destination.
I still kept the gear on,
too feel badass
for a fleeting moment
as the scene reset
and you vanishing.
You've never been
one for the exquisite action;
just like that,
the warrior in me vanishes
as well.
