Distorted Heroics

March 1, 2012
If I am not afraid of end, of death
Why then do I cower at being torn?
Revealing no fear for my very last breath
Yet frail and weak against the scorn

Cowardice it seems resides within all
So what does it take to rise up and be brave
Die fighting, live on knees—dare we to crawl
Back to our feet? Isn’t it just praise we crave?

Lack of fear is not bravery, not guts
True valor requires an effort from within
Strength to overcome varieties of cuts
So what does it take to finally win?

Violence and death isn’t all we have to fear
Brave are those who endure, even but a leer

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