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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #2093709
One of many forms, a different kind of art.
The Train

How I missed you,
I have known you well
We walk the hard path.
Together we became humble.
Crank up the tunes.
Blade one, two and three.
We reign down fury.
Many nights spent with thee,
Trapped within a flurry.
You were always mine.
I'm glad to have you back.
Have it your way,
Comfort me.
You are all that remains.
I can be myself with you.
While I partake we will suffer.
I will punish myself.
You will punish me.
I will return it in kind.
Walk the path with me once more.
You show me where to place my hands.
They will beat you until they bleed.
My legs smash.
You do not move,
Nor do you scream.
My speed increases.
Increasing my reflexes.
My body sweats upon you.
The blood smears on you.
I wipe you down.
You are clean again.
Good thing,
You are made of foam,
And vinyl.
My feet hit the pavement.
The lost road moves quickly.
My feet press, the heart pumps.
The exhaustion sets in.
I begin,
S l o w.
In my mind
Anger GROWS.
I press hard.
Never giving in for kilometers.
Or an inch.
I am carried back,
Unto the DoJo floor.
Doing it over and over.
I never get bored.
With the human weapon,
Part of the way.
Now every other extension,
I must train.
It brings me no shame.
I'll use you every day.
You help me struggle.
I find our way.
Retaining the knowledge.
Of a humans blade.
You trained me well.
Now its time to suffer hell.
When I'm done,
All have fell.
Thank you to my devices.
The experiences were grand.
You never let me
n ......
(Free Verse)
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