Triumph Has a Hard Shell

The poem was published by Idle Ink and is my first ever creative publication. You can read it here.

If the link is broken, you can read it below.

Triumph has a hard shell

Defeat fatigue’s cry that soars above you
High. Victory and loss are fleeing
Your purpose, now complete. Temporary.
You look above you at the blood-drenched sky
And reflect on the fate you struggled for.

Falcons crown over your triumph and the battle ground.
But you halt, pause, reflect. Is your sacrifice
Futile? You adjust your shoulders and puff your chest,
Push your pride high to meet the cry.

Tall, stiff uniforms mark this ground.
Blood flows free, under the broken hollow graves.
Is there pride in your achieve? You wonder, as
Fatigued fate falls futile under your feet.

Triumph has a hard shell,
But a softer centre still.

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