Poetry

Tragic Warrior

The gentle wind blows away the blood of my face A battle that never ends , tears that never dry Gently walking over the field of stained flowers Looking up to the sky, even the sky cries Even the blue and sunny sky is in pain And it rains, oh god it rains down on me Washing away the last drop of blood off me I can hear the wolfs sing, they howl The craws…

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