"greatsword" poems
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They do not want to fight.
They do not like to be hit.
I know--
I tried a million times to wrestle;
They wanted no part.
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I'd rather weild a greatsword--
Don't care if it knocks me down,
I lose my balance--
How else am I to learn to pick myself back up?
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
They shy away from me,
And expect me to shy from them--
From everything.
But how am I to live that way?
Will it scare them when I am bold,
And unafraid?
Am I right that I should prepare myself
To withstand
Whatever battles may come?
Or am I just a silly, sentimental *********
Filled with ideas about fighting for honor,
And about feeling Alive.
I'm surrounded by cotton-bullet people.
But I long to hit and be hit.
Hard.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Don't listen to the song
It's just a requiem for an old sword
A silver sword turned dark
A greatsword, a broadsword, a sellsword
A soldier's life a king's toy
And traces of blood
The sign of another chance
The silver not shining anymore
Buried under the dark
Succumbed to the way of life
Don't listen to the requiem
Don't cry to it's rhythm
I'm just an old sword
Cry for the mothers
fathers
Children
Not me,
Never me,
My steely heart never deserved a cry
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC