Her army.
Her vicious army.
It's gotten through the walls,
and killed the soldiers.
Her army.
Her lovely army.
Fought through it all,
and didn't stop to think about pain.
Her army.
Her sad army.
Tore down the defenses,
and ruined the safety of this city.
Her army.
Her army.
Forgot the past,
and ran for the victory.
Her army.
The captured feelings left behind.
Are they saving the past
or destroying the last pieces?
Are they trying to revive the emotions
or barricading them behind closed doors?
Her army.
The warriors I loved.
Fighting,
ruining,
destroying.
Her army.
The death of me.
YOU ARE READING
Memory
PoetryAn exploration of what it is like to step into the past and remember the scarring experiences that still haunt our thoughts.
