Untitled Poem #5
IC Date — Location
You memory now sharpens my sword.
The one you’ve left. My arms tremble, I was not built for this.
None of us truly were. But now, we take up arms, I’m never alone
You are always here, even when I’m alone. it’s my turn now.
To protect.
To be broken.
To be left.
So that others can live for another 500 years.