If often feels as if when we write
And putting our souls out there is like a fight,
Me, fighting against the whole world
An army of critics attacked my every verse,
Yet with me precision I use words
Like they are a sword full of intent,
To strike against those in self defense
For there are those who don’t like what I invent,
And as I charge forward my victory cements
A place of valour of which I am content.
fauxcroft 
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