medieval

i decimate
i burn
i pillage and destroy
i knock down the castles
we work so hard to build.
i stand in my armor
ready to defend
the walls of the city –
the ones that hold nothing.
i crouch in the darkness,
my guts filled with hopelessness,
and i rage and i scream
and i spar with my demons.
how do they know exactly where
to wound me?
they find the soft underbelly
that makes me mortal
and they pierce it
with relentless precision.

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