Oh, what a feeling it must be to rid,
The pain in your soul
The silence of love as it pierced into your soul.
Its knightly sword punctured your skin as it slowly but harshly burrowed into your chest.
The cold steel came in contact with your warm heart sending an internal shock.
Oh what'd I do to rid of you.
The mountains spoke to you, their harsh terrain resemble you.
They remind you... of that night
The night when you felt the touch of sharp steel.
The night you felt pain.
The night you wish you could forget
The night the river started to flow
A very harsh, violent river.
Oh what'd I'd do to rid of you.
YOU ARE READING
Wounded Warrior
PoetryShe was the beauty of the dark Beauty of the night Yet, she was furious The sun set and, now awoken The warrior once glorious Now wounded and broken
