i chose
martyrdom
over peace
and i started a war
(with myself).
i took arrows
in the lieu
of the doves
i sacrificed
(in red tears).
i salvaged
a whole city
while the temple
burned
(my body).
i tell myself
i am brave
while the heart
in my chest quivers
(afraid).
i dance
with the devil
while the angels
cry
(for me).
i blow
the ashes of my heart
from my hands
soaked in blood
(feel no more).
i am a resident
in hell
but i visit
heaven
(sometimes).
i chose
to fight
a battle
i will never win
(me vs me).
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Field of the Fallen
Sunlight danced softly across the frost-crusted fields, making the little blades of grass sparkle like emeralds. The faraway chirrup of a songbird was the only disruption to the quiet of the morning. An icy chill, the last vestige of the dying winter, clung to the air, settling in a thick white mist at the far side of the open field. The heavy stench of decay hung in that mist, punctuation by the sharp tang of freshly spilled blood.
By A. J. Schoenfeld7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Again...just so artistic...I agree with Gerald. Your use of words and that stunning brevity that comes from all your pieces, just astounds me every time.
This was so freaking relatable! I loved it!
This is Art!! Very well done.