I know you thought you could render me void;
But it was impossible.
Unmeasured your enemy;
An opposition only in the mind's view.
Had I cowered?
What then?
How might that outcome have played out?
Ohhh, rath at the the tip of my blade!
What did having mercy render me?
A clear conscious?
Peace?
Indeed.
I slayed no enemy because I saw only my own;
a deep reflection in time
of a moment's legend;
Gone scared.
Gone Doe eyed.
Gone cold.
Epitome,
beholden in naive youth.
Compassion forced my blade off,
effortlessly,
for I had so deeply still seen the gestation in his eyes.
Mercy.
It meant nothing at all,
Yet but to save one soul's life.
He was not beholden to this.
He was merely a child,
Caught up in a war.
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