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I do not need a god to tell me I am worthy.
These scars still remind me
not of the brilliant white...
No matter how much I sleep,
I can't catch up...
I picked up the blade
like it would help me sow...
How is it possible that I feel I've lost...
breaths of freedom, planets I could have...
All these things I can't release
"Ready for warfare?", my mind antagonizes.
"I wasn't created for battlefields", my heart insists.
My heart is sick with grenades.
Sometimes you have to work on protecting yourself more than your desire to protect others.
by Tanya Southey
by BOB GALLO
by Maple Tree