19: happy birthday to me.

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And then,
My battle cry was heard,
Swords and armour,
I dashed into the fog,
With unclear vision—
I couldn't surrender.

Dark shadows engulfed me,
Seeping life out of me,
I couldn't shout,
I couldn't speak,
I was distraught,
Spent and weak,
But still-

I'll rise,
Like rain after a drought,
Famine and dry lands.
I'll rise,
Like the morning sun,
Shining in all its glory.
They didn't make me,
How could they break me?

Many more years to come,
My story would be told,
To a thousand longing ears,
The plot- about the courage I had,
Left with a wounded heart and battle scars,
Yet, to them, I'd be the greatest piece there is.

Until then.

S a m m e e h a

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