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She Turned The Shower On
She turned the shower on
The sudden assault,
Molten iron spear-tips
Thrown from above,
Took her by surprise
And pierced through her,
Sloshing her young blood
Around over the battle scene.
She woke up out of her death
Just as the fusillades
Went simmering into cool blades
And then water pattered once again.
She stepped out and grabbed
A rough red towel,
Dragged it through her hair and face
And looked about
At the water mist.
The mist brawled infront of her,
Living death before it dispersed
Ultimately disappearing.
She, the ghost, stood
Until reaching to the door and
Leaving. But, she had
Cut through them,
Even being slender.
Thus she did join them
In a war missing
Victory and defeat.
poem
by
Mark Challenger
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