Wit's Conquest

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There's a battle welling inside my chest;

A war of demons and angels.

I can feel the rage lead to my unrest,

My soul writhing in unbidden tangles.

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If you place you hand upon my heart,

There are cries behind the steady beat.

A battle that's not quite two worlds apart,

For mistakes that they always would seem to repeat.

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Their blood is what pumps through my inner core,

The veins soldiers' loss would revive.

There's no end to it, this business of war,

And to drum's steady turn they'll contrive.

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There's a battle welling within my chest,

A war of my past and present.

It's ever a battle of wit's conquest,

Of hierarchy; king, lord, and peasant.