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Black Forest pt 3

Friend and the Citadel

By Richard WillisPublished 4 years ago 2 min read
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She walked with grace akin to a glide.

We locked eyes.

Two friends joined at the hip

not a word need pass our lips,

Thus we both cried.

I wanted her no closer,

I couldn't escape due to the pain.

She removed the arrow and cut me open,

revealing all the parasites and shame

Festering feelings about which I said nothing,

scars and ulcers marked with her name.

These weren't from fights

she didn't play mean tricks

But I was left a certain type of lovesick

that leaves you staring out past your window pane.

I never meant to weigh her down

In these feelings I'd have drowned

If she'd have smiled the rest of her days.

But due to the rules of this plain,

she sees the hurt I kept as we parted ways.

She sewed me up,

and pointed to the black forest and clouds of pasty grey.

Tears in her eyes she looked at me almost as if to say

That she was mourning this place

As it didn't need to be this way.

That she remembered green leaves in place

of these dry branches and twigs that fray

A calm river of golden words

A gentle breeze that would make the trees sway

And in the sky once sat a never dying light.

She took my hand in her left,

placed the sword in my right

Saying "A million people can experience this place,

But for it, only you can fight."

And pointed to a citadel,

Wicked fortress black as night

At the heart of a land equate to hell

Smoldering and covered in corpses and blight

This land was every mistake I ever made

All the things I couldn't do right

I cowered at the thought

My shattered heart already cleft

Wondering how I can give it my all again

when each day I feel I have nothing left.

But she brought me to my feet

her hand still in mine

saying "It's okay, You know how to fight this time."

So here I go now

walking through thicket and tangled vine

Trees gnarling into the faces that bore my excuses

"I'm sorry.", "not feeling well.", "I'm Busy.", "Maybe next time.."

Wilting from a drought of dried up lines

A distant crowd who can't see the signs

Gentle whispers mixed in

with the thousand voices that shout my crimes.

But despite the tears,

the only way to bring back the light and shine

is an epic battle with the worst of my fears

in this barren Black Forest of mine.

surreal poetry
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