a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.
You look so tired-unhappy.
each day i wake up, put on my armor and get ready to travel down the road of an ordinary routinal phase of potential confrontation. prepare myself for the worst, if bad happens let it and not think of the best for that wont help on most occasions, but its always good to dream. never to hope. for some of the bravest and valient men alive have fallen to that one, unexpected cause.hope. hunger and thirst, breath and thrive. throughout the day it seems all it could ever be. and what i make it to be, sums up the left out reasons. keeping my shield polished, but rarely used i hide it away for necessary times of battle. finishing the day i clean and hang my suit up, seeing my reflection on the shiny metal i smile. and i dwell that maybe one day i wont need it at all, cause carrying it around gets heavy sometimes.
im not ready for anything comming my way.
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