Here we stand, face to face.
Ready for the final battle,
The last round of combat.
This time, to death.
I look at you,
Not with the eyes of a green novice
But with the solemn gaze
Of a hardened veteran.
As you stare back at me,
Blank, cold, utterly pale
I finally understand
The most dreadful truth of all.
Even if I were to fill
Your emptiness with my words,
This will only be the start
Of a brand-new piece of work.
Thus, is the struggle we are in,
Writer versus empty page.
Sometimes, I wish I could quit,
And I start to write again.
YOU ARE READING
Shortys2024 Challenge
PoetryA collection of poems for the Shortys Challenge 2024. Starting September 1st , I'll be posting a short poem a day and submitting it to the challenge. Join me in this personal quest, and let's find out if I can complete the goal of writing 30 poems i...
