I’m doing a month of poetry, one new poem each day for thirty days. Here’s number eighteen of thirty.
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Smoke curls into the air
The smell of sulfur stays heavy here
The fire in his eyes burns clear
Shedding light on the path to all his fears
The thunderstorm awakens
The steel twitches all the same
All alliances are forsaken
The echoes shatter the cold asphalt of the way
He grasps for salvation
All the anger and hate becomes faded
Cries for mercy try to escape
As his waking memories drift away