Clash (an acrostic poem)

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Crashing together in mortal combat

Leaving corpses in our wake

As we fight towards the gates of Hell

Soon we are against those blackened iron spikes

Here we will make our eternal stand

Setback (an acrostic poem)

So things didn’t go quite as planned

Everything didn’t come out smelling like roses

The eyes on the prize watched it drift away

But you still are here

And you are able to set new goals

Count the steps you took this time and savor that victory

Knowing you will go farther next time

 

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