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The Warrior and the Kleenex

There he sat with his head in his hands,

Thirsty for power yet riddled with pain.

One small soldier speaking for many

About lives lost daily, one by one.

The wind can leave a dent in your armor

And heroes come and go as they please

But what delights me, day by day

Is resilience. We won’t be erased.

The stairway calls us, binds us to growth

To pull ourselves out of battle

For the weeds are growing and the time has come

To love the weeds, one by one.

Even a warrior has gardening to do

And there’s not enough Kleenex in the world

To sop up all the tears held back from years

Of me blaming me. I didn’t get it wrong and neither did



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