As a child in high school,
I used to fantasize about my first fight in high school.
When she left, she left me in a middle of a battle.
Already weakened, she abandoned me. With almost no weapons.
A razor.
She left me with a razor.
Who knew that this battle was going to be impossible to win.
A fight using razors against myself.
A battle against myself.
I won it but with many wounds across my stomach.
The battle was won.
But not the war.
The war was started by the devil by herself.
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Poetry : A King's Poverty
PoetryA description of a king is almost defined by the way there Kingdom is perceive "Perfect" Nobody knows that, the ruler of the Land wears two crowns with two different coronation, One crown is for his might, the other is the side he never shows. As yo...
