The internal war
As day breaks, war begins.
Clash of swords and sparks from armours
Tumult of warriors moving in to kill.
Blood is sprayed in directions of all
Onto the battlefield, cold and hard.
Brown turns red, red turns crimson,
Clumps of grass dripping with blood.
A battle that lasts for days but feels an eternity,
A battle with yourself that you are prepared for,
Yet never foresee.
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