32 2 0
                                    

You ran to his aid

And stopped the parade

Before they could pull out their daggers

And you frowned and you said

"This is as close as you'll get"

And they left, untouched, and unstaggered.

But no joy did you feel and soon

Hatred overcame your steal

And sword in hand

Deed been done,

But still

You sought them

And still

You killed

And I don't know

Should I start running?

Or allow the blood to drown me

As it has drowned you?

Poems of a Late Summers NightWhere stories live. Discover now