This is the first of my series of poems dedicated to the emotions feel in battle or the emotions they inflict. Criticism is apprecciated, but no insults please, wouldn't want any of you getting in trouble. Here you go: The Pain I must be strong I need to fight, to grow strong The chaos approaches, with it accompanies the death of many I fight to create pain for myself, through my pain I grow strong, I must be strong Cuts, bullets, poison, fire, The pain from myself makes me tougher and stronger The feel of a blade, which can cut me and my wrists Creating my agony and cruelty more powerful I grow strong, I must be strong Today I will battle, against the enemy and my pain With this I close away the pain that binds me, to the one I love I stand alone, for I am the only one to create the place of no pain Pain, is my ally, my friend, my enemy and my nightmare I grow strong, I must be strong For with pain like everything, it must come to an end The only way to stop the pain is death, I fear it not Instead I hope that death will wash away the pain Now the time of war begins, the time of death begins I grow strong, I must be strong So that I might die in battle and be granted the peace of death
