We stood facing each other.
We had our swords drawn.
We did not attack.
We felt our blood coursing through our veins.
Those two words are addictive.
Those two words make warriors.
Those two words make people ready to kill.
We swung our swords.
We parried blows.
We let our killing intent out.
We were ready to die.
As I cut through his shoulder,
As his sword arm fell to the ground,
As I defeated him.
I didn't kill him.
I didn't kill my alter ego.
I didn't kill my darkness within.
I didn't have the strength.
- This poem is based on an unfinished fantasy story of mine. More accurately, it's based on a scene from the first act's end.
- There are quite a lot of anaphora in this poem.
- The battle drive is a magical ability found in some characters of the short story's universe. As the name indicates, that ability only activates in battle. It gives greatly increased strength, toughness and agility. It also makes one an instant expert in the currently wielded weapon. It's very addictive, and can cause those who succumbed to the addiction to fight only for the sake of fighting.