5 Minute Poetry – Fighting


Squandered and bleak, pillaged and plundered.

It is a feeling of being desolate and barren, 

glimmered with a touch of hope and wonder 

that holds you this side of the soil

You don’t want to be so acrimonious but your lenses are more maroon than rose-tinted

But why?

Why does it have to be this way?

Always an ache to follow an ache,

And what feels like nothing in between

To soften the blow

Who can dare do this to you

But yourself

With all your gifts and curses,

Nightmares and dreams

How does one fight that?

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