( música de acompanhamento à leitura, do último post, no rodapé )

A wounded warrior is still a warrior!!
Wait...
A wounded warrior is still a warrior??

Or...are these few words only meant to calm,
the smell of oncoming death?
Among so many wounded,
can one trick death,
into choosing,
into letting one live ??

Slowly he rose to his feet,
thoughts linging,
torn,
battered,
hollow.

He stared at himself,
eyes burning heavy...

Dusk was near.
Time was running.
He wished for something else...
An easy escape...perhaps...
But,
in the morning darkness,
he could see he was surrounded.

Weapons broken.
Integrity forsaken.
All to let go...
but...
So much to reconquer!

There would be losses.
Inevitable pain.
Much anger.
Dispair.

Destiny?
Maybe,
Maybe not.
Way out? - NONE!

Stand your ground!
What's to lose?
You owe it to this life!
You owe it to her!
Just,
remember...
Don't lose yourself!

Yet again,
It would just be another battle...
And...
he was used to it.

Funny thing,
that mirror...
A real pain in the ass!

Then,
...he felt a reassuring touch on his shoulder.