The Afterwards

The afterwards of everything is wondering
Why tradeoffs must be made, and friendships lost,
And why the night turns silence into shadows
That touch the edge of passion turned to frost

The afterwards of everything is emptiness,
A strange reward for doing what is right:
The cold and quiet heart that’s ribbed with darkness,
The winner, who’s left sickened from

The fight

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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