there was once a man who was skillful with his sword
but in the comfortable absence of war he had developed a debilitating languor
then one day an enemy he had previously defeated came to exact revenge
bursting through the door, catching the man off guard
the enemy not allowing a minute for response and the man too slow to reach for his weapon
he was only afforded a split second to regret before watching his enemy shoot an arrow to his chest
before moving in close to decapitate
© Heath Muchena
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem