The guard

It’s not about omnipotence,

Nor the wish to see them bow.

It’s all about their sly offence,

That gives the urge to drown.


The art of getting on defense,

and starting secret wars.

Came out of need to make the sense

Of wounds that made life soar.


The killer born from disregard,

Unwillingness to let it be.

The vicious, heartless, empty guard,

Of maimed and battered “me”.



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