Give me your hand, my brother, search my face;
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame;
For we have made an end of all things base.
We are returning by the road we came.
Your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead,
And I am in the field where men must fight.
But in the gloom I see your conflicting head
And through your victory I shall win the light.
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An extract from a book i'll never write | Poetry |
PoetryJust a lonely teenager in love, struggeling with emotions and wanting the end to come sooner rather than later :( i want to love but i just dont want to hurt them if i love one then i will hurt the other. So please forgive me, i can't hold back my...
