and awake as if boiled
but badly undercooked.
I am a dream of fire,
a warrior's only end
when you can't see the middle.
I dream of vengeance
and awake guilty
as if crimes of passion
tattoo themselves to you
no matter what world they are born to.
I can wake ashamed
through I never pray there
and like a weary warrior,
pardon myself over time
for what I keep reliving.
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