I have tried to sharpen this blade
Every day this week.
But every time I touch the hilt,
I remember the last burns,
And I simply sigh,
And commend my effort
But decide it’s not worth the risk.

I have tried to polish this armour
For the last month,
But the face staring back
In the grime
Is too haunted to deserve it.

I have even tried
To turn my face
At least a fraction
Towards the dragon’s den

But every time I do,
The voices just get louder
And the effort just gets harder,
And my body just feels heavier.

But one day I’ll slay the beast,
And let my eyes see sun again,
And let my lips form smiles again.

But not today –
Not with a heavy body,
A burnt hand,
A blunt sword
And grimy armour.

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