Poetry

The Pride Before, 19 (232.)

A building block,
a single step,
these tiny moves
bring us to death.
This is okay,
for we must learn
to love the walk
and heal from burns.
The next time I
must go to war
I’ll bring champagne
and decks of cards,
for if we must
to battle go
I’d rather friends
be gained from foes.

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