At a short pace, almost a sigh,
I face my shadows, I wear out fate,
and though the breeze that turns is scarce,
I fight on, deep down, divine.
I like the way this poem juggles words creating a lively rhythm.
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At a short pace, almost a sigh,
I face my shadows, I wear out fate,
and though the breeze that turns is scarce,
I fight on, deep down, divine.
I like the way this poem juggles words creating a lively rhythm.