And in my darkest hour, I ask you
Is this what makes a warrior?
The way he screams a war cry?
Or how his claws gleam against the gnashing of teeth?
I say no
For what makes a warrior is different than what makes a soul
A soul twists and morphs at the things around it
Flames scorch the surface
Smoke burns the lungs
And it gets smothered if not resilient
In my darkest hour, I ask you
Am I expected to be a warrior?
Or supposed to be a soul?
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts, Emotions, Change
PuisiA collection of poetry, nothing too special but maybe you've felt similar to these words before. CW: Strong language & themes/suicidal mentions
