Crusade

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“Move ahead. Keep, keep, keep going. Somehow, anyhow.”

Oh do stop!
Get off from that dead-end road.
Turn around.

Clench your fists, grit the teeth
Empty your sack
Throw off the tools that pull you down
You know they’re no use to you now!
Not relevant.
Not anymore.

Crawl.
Dragging the leaden soggy weight of
Whatever left of your body and mind
Oozing blood from the open pores
Tired, spent, drooping down.



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