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Battle Field
It is time again.
Eyes glazed, hands once shaky
Now expertly steady
Glint of light off of the metal
Blinding against dark crimson
Pleasure and comfort sickly accompany
Scarlet beads against crystal skin
Breathing comes easier, tears subside
As pain escapes from the core
Mustn't stop now, let it go
Deeper, as deep as dared
Before the pain all leaves, the body torn raw
Passed the limit, must stop now
Hand lifts, hesitating before another go
Deeper than the rest
Then realization hits hard
Look down, see the results
Of a successful session
Anger. Anger at the stupidity
Sorrow. Sorrow at the lengths went
Drop the tool, slow motion kicks in
Light catches the metal, drop of red falling
Twirling, spinning, then the "ting" of
The weapon on the floor
Hands painted scarlet make this much evident:
Battle Lost.
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