Tears (an acrostic poem)

The drops of water slowly rolled down her face

Eventually falling to the dirt below

And yet neither her, nor that patch of earth, were quenched

Reality was that both needed more

She emptied herself trying though.

 

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Blade (an acrostic poem)

Bent over itself over one hundred times

Leaving a subtle strength and flexibility

And then quenched for hardness

Deidre respected everything the katana had been through

Everything she had done, and then some

 

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