Mortal Enemies

Sorrow used to come at me
With a sharp drawn in its hand
And stab and swing and sever
And I was naught to understand.

Then it knocked upon my door,
But I scarce would let it in
Until it crept off in the dark
It’s blade to whet again.

Now we meet as strangers,
Who recognize the other’s face
But can’t remember if in a dream,
Or in this wicked place

We once fought as enemies
Dealing mortal blows;
Sorrow’s, to teach me misery,
And mine, to cease to know.

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