I walked with the sun..
               striding..
Blood on my hands..
  drenched  through my clothes...    
  leaving a trace of scarlet across the road.  
Faint crashing in my mind...    
   And rapid breathing in and out  
 Blood on my hands...  
  I eliminated  a man who destroyed me.  
       The war continues
while  I’m wearing out..
     Standing ground,  drowning within myself.
The light can’t save me now and while I lay my armour down
Transverse  beneath...  
I breathe out... and in..
     ... my last day
I walked with the sun..
     striding.

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Parker Jennings
over 4 years

The vision of this poem oscillates between that of a manic warrior marching towards an opposing army and that of a madwoman who has killed her former lover and descends into her own dark demise.

Also, striding is an excellent word. Has a sense of forward motion when you say it aloud :)

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