This was originally a post-apocalytic and somewhat eschatological poem. The opening line and the formatting style are the only things I kept from the original. I’ll probably rewrite the other poem, but it’ll be far different than what it was here.
In any case, I hope you enjoy this.
A whisper of fear takes the bold,
and the shout of courage burns cold.
It’s the wrong night
to make a stand.
Left alone after the fight
sits one lonely heart.