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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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He kneels there

Holding a smushed

And bloody doll

I've never seen such a vacant look in anyone's eyes

The look of loss

The look of 'Non'

When there is nothing

Non-happiness

Non-victory

Non-life

He leans on his sword, sunk into the ground

As if it cannot

Possibly hold him

Up

Cannot hold up the Non in his heart

And another stands near

A scrap of cloth

From a fallen comrade

Fluttering at its hilt

A non-memorial

The blood stains the ground

His clothes

In a non-shape

What is he thinking?

Non-thoughts

No doubt

Because at this point

The last moments remaining to him

All that's left

Is Non.

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