Battle (1)

A Poem by Amay Saxena

not all battles have only two conclusions, some have three

Crumbled under his enemy's thumb,
With a shattered heart,
He stood alone with his sword.

His mangled legs screamed,
His hands were cold,
And head had the mortification of defeat.

Time fluttered by his head,
Unclear mind, offered nada,
Enemy drove him into oblivion.