His voice still lingers like smoke in the air,
A whisper of grief too heavy to bear.
“They’ll suffer,” she said, with venom so deep
And now, every breath is a struggle to keep.
We never saw hatred behind her smile,
Never thought silence could grow so vile.
What did we do? We search through the past,
But the answers elude us, fading too fast.
He spoke at the end with eyes gone dim,
As if shadows had spoken through the shell of him.
“She wished me harm to make you all break…”
And with those words, our hearts began to ache.
It came like a curse, unspoken, unseen,
A slow unraveling, sharp and mean.
Misfortune like poison slipped through the days,
Each hour more hollow, each joy set ablaze.
She watched us, perhaps, from the dark unknown,
Smiling as sorrow turned marrow to stone.
But what was our crime, what unseen sin,
That drew such revenge from a fire within?
Now all that remains is the echo of pain,
And questions like thunder that fall with the rain.
His final words still tear us apart
A ghost in the mind, a blade in the heart
—The Wounded Fighter