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A Righteous Doubt
By: Luke Coveley
The warrior's armor, blessed by the righteous.
His body's entirety, soaked with adrenaline.
In this war, his reputation was ancient.
His soul was scorching.
His blazing axe, supreme.
Death and destruction were his ambition.
Servants and squires desired this warrior's ambition,
yet carrying dishes for their righteous king
was always deemed supreme.
No bursts of adrenaline,
no killing, no blood, no scorching
of monuments built by the ancients.
The history of this blessed warrior was ancient.
He had what others did not, great ambition
for power and wealth. A scorching
desire to follow the path of his King's righteous
hand. He watched his enemies waste their adrenaline,
mastered his, and proved himself supreme.
However, he questioned what they declared supreme.
He knew he was evil to some, and an ancient
hero to others. He knew only his adrenaline
as his true source of ambition.
The power to kill is what made him righteous.
His trust in his King had begun scorching.
He gazed over the ridge at the scorching
battlefield. His enemies chose death as supreme,
for surrender was, to both sides, unrighteous.
It yielded an agonizing and torturous end at the hand of ancient
and rusted machines, covered in young blood and ambition.
As he thought of the young men, his blood drained of adrenaline.
He came to hate that feeling of adrenaline.
He writhed as he felt his soul scorching
as he destroyed ambition,
and made his King bloated and supreme.
A King to be written down as the ancient
who, without dirtying a blade, led his kingdom down the path of righteousness.
With his righteous sword unsheathed, the warrior purged himself of the scorching.
He felt the ancient edge pierce into the heart of his ambition.
His ancient body was instantly drained of all adrenaline, and the silence became supreme.
Luke Coveley is a student of The Country Day School. He enjoys writing poetry and short stories.