The
shit they say will hurt for sure.
They
mean it. Bastards work that way;
No
girl's a saint, no human heart is pure,
But
those with skill go out their way.
They
make their mark and make it last.
Act
innocent as you fight back.
Distract
themselves with blunted jousts,
Defend
attacks, complain of being attacked.
Just
fools fight those at war with their own hearts,
Like healing those, who live by staying sick,
By cannon fire, alive but spirits cursed.
Such
losing battles strip the soul of grit.
But
war means time and readiness for luck.
You
stood your ground. And now you've shown those fucks.
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