There is this dull hollow, within.
A soldier in need of war.
She can resolve only within,
For she’s a fool at war.
Two spaces, two very different spaces.
Wave over wave, she’s struck.
POW at last, like any other longing death.
She isn’t getting weak, thus scared.
Dormant collateral damage.
Rage. Floods. Ambush.
I’ve forgotten how to cry.
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