If he were
Friend indeed
He would note
Her teeter-totter
Unsteady gait
Dutch courage against
doubt.
It oft seems
Unending
Night's thief
If not pledged himself
To forgetfulness
He would ask
Walk
Confront
See there she is
The spiral
Up and down
Straight path unseen
Wait
Just over that hill hope lies
Dungeons, dragons, moats
in vivid reds and pale whites
She builds
Leaving afterwards the bitter taste
The same body count
Her war against the enemy inside
If he would look
Not wiser
He could reach out
As she once did when he lay crushed
But he walks on
Chooses oblivion
As his companion
While she
Wars against the darkness
Sometimes nimble
Often sliding
Unbalanced
Defiant
Brave
He turns away
He will not see.
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