When There Was No Fight Left

When he began to battle on his own, 
he started turning stronger 
but his fury got louder than a war cry.
When he had his wings cut, 
he made sure there is no one 
to wallow for him in sorrow.
When he would be buried,
he needed to be seen strong
never having shown that he is vulnerable.
The end began 
when there was no fight left,
he was knees deep in hell already.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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