Open Poetry #21 |
The Monster Within |
ThunderMage Senior Member
since 2002-06-20
Posts 812Canada |
The beast is slain, His life force drained. His evil dead, Where was his head. The hero stands, Blood on his hands, And laughs and smiles, Looking down the miles. "What beast can claim My life, my fame?" The hero shows might, But against his own light! He becomes darkened by power, Now in his greatest hour. His armour gleams in the morning sun, It seems it's over, he has won. But then he feels a strange remorse. Has he taken his only recourse? He suddenly falls to his knees in tears, Hating that he has become his fears. What is life without poetry and adventure? |
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© Copyright 2002 Liam Hall - All Rights Reserved | |||
the_loner_23 Member Ascendant
since 2002-06-08
Posts 5479Jacksonville, Florida, USA |
Man that is some powerful stuff there. Cold hands means a warm heart |
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ThunderMage Senior Member
since 2002-06-20
Posts 812Canada |
Yep. What is life without poetry and adventure? |
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