My warrior

Moments you sit cross with fate,
when it plays hard on again,
whence it stares you
dead a grave,
just Right then
right there
Sit for a moment,
not to utter a word

A feeling so miserably ill
will stop you on the way forth
and you, my warrior,
will slay down the world
with a mere sword

But this very moment,
listen to this sky,
How it screams them deaf,
thundering their throats dry

How it turns purple,
when you wish
for your blues
a little less struggle

And when you moisture
To the thought of them trampling,
think of the oblivion above
How often it is punctured
by the sun,
Yet covers the infinity beyond.

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