That Feeling…
by Diyana Gonzalez
There I stood in front of my enemy,
Its blank face daunting, intimidating.
Slowly, slowly, I pick up my weapon,
A wooden sword, its graphite blade shining in the sunlight.
I raise it up, eyes focused on my target,
My muscles tensed as I planned the next move.
Uncertainties creep upon my thoughts,
And I begin to wonder if I should go that way,
Or move this way,
Or just leave it be.
Frustration and anger gather inside,
As I stare at my paper foe, who patiently waits.
And so finally,
After struggling and deciding,
I set my sword down and walk away.
Accepting my defeat,
Knowing I can battle again another day.
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