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I unholster my weapon,
to begin a fight.
A battle that must be won,
by exhausting all my might

I look at my weapons point
as the terror lies ahead.
It's face is empty,
and I plunge for dead.

I strike my enemy,
with the slash of my hand.
The once empty face,
is marked with haste.

I conquered this beast,
and now at least,
my feelings inside,
no longer hide.

This monster I see,
is my inner enemy.
But the wielded pen,
is my strongest weapon.

My pens smite,
are the words I write.
They set me free,
with a poetic victory.

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