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After the Battle
The wound is sleeping.
It nestles in my body
A red twist, throbbing.
Don’t move. Don’t wake it.
(It’s doctor’s orders you know).
Keep it from roaring.
But what about
The shrapnel buried in the
Hearthole of my mind?
Can you taste the steel?
Am I the only one who
Can hear the cannons?
When I look back
I can’t remember
If I was afraid.
Does that make me brave?
Or am I the greatest
Coward of them all…
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