A tale – Part Nine

It was used to borrow,
Filling the throats, emptying barrels.
Touched by these frail hands
Who had as unique desire,
Please fail to please,
It was used for watering or dropping
The beings, rough or desperate.
It served to make life better,
Delivering moments of illusions
For a painful future.
But, by dint of clashing,
To glorify won games,
To sanctify won fights,
They broke, spreading on the ground,
The blood of the frail hands,
Who, never again will be able to satisfy,
Rude beings, desperate souls.

Alone Shadow (aloneinshadow)

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