Yes, I have come to my senses and I realize that drabbling is truly the only way to kill off writers block. This story will have poems and drabbles of mine. Most of which will suck. And those that don't will be depressing.

If you're still reading… why?

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Battleground

Slipping through entwined fingers,
Drawing them apart.
They hate it
And it is the one thing they may
never
defeat.
Dragging him down
Faster than her
He stoops low
While she stands straight.
He is wrinkled
Her skin is smooth.
His eyes cloud;
She cries, for she loved them.
And now the only name he remembers
is
hers.
And breathing becomes harder.
And she feels them losing
this
fight.
But he says that they will never
be
defeated.
She trusts him
Though she does not understand.
So she sits
By his side
Always.
And their last day together
comes
gently.
And he tells her he will die, soon.
But she is barely older
Her eyes are bright and her skin is only wrinkled
Around her eyes
From laughing
At what
he
says.
And she hates her youth.
For she does not want to live
And live
And live
Without him.
And he says it is time
And she cries
For not all tears are an evil.
And she says that they
have
lost.
And he says,
"No,
Don't you understand?
Time was the enemy.
It always is.
It pulled us apart.
But we fought back.
And
we
won.
Don't you understand?
Time was trying to end
our
love.
That was the fight.
And we have won."

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Deathbed wisdom from Artemis Fowl. Of course.

Inspired by Gandalf. "I will not say, 'do not cry', for not all tears are an evil."