Battle Studies


Love is a battle. An onslaught of feelings shooting out from the gun of despair, a haze of smoke filling the air. We are all victim, where loneliness defeats our purpose, blood stains and torches.

Our love was dwindling. I could feel it float from my trembling hands and into the barren wasteland. All we ever do is say goodbye. The daggers fly simultaneously piercing our chests, bullets rain, our hearts in chains.

I knew we should be together.  We camouflage the words left unsaid into broken promises.  Heartbreak warfare is very unfair.


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