My silver sword glistens,
Under the crying sky,
I swing the weapon,
Striking the enemy,
They tumble down,
Cuts seer their skin,
Crimson cascades down their limp arms,
Colliding on the ground,
Hope vanishes from their eyes,
Then a spark appears,
Torn and broken they rise up,
Limping their way,
Pushing me down,
A fight begins,
Between myself and I,
My worst enemy,
My supposed pal,
I see myself,
A pathetic little thing,
Rising back up,
No matter how many times I have been brought down.
Under the crying sky,
I swing the weapon,
Striking the enemy,
They tumble down,
Cuts seer their skin,
Crimson cascades down their limp arms,
Colliding on the ground,
Hope vanishes from their eyes,
Then a spark appears,
Torn and broken they rise up,
Limping their way,
Pushing me down,
A fight begins,
Between myself and I,
My worst enemy,
My supposed pal,
I see myself,
A pathetic little thing,
Rising back up,
No matter how many times I have been brought down.

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