The Last to Comment Wins

Alfir

The Inventor of Words
Joined
Aug 11, 2021
Messages
554
Points
133
A Cut Above

Upon the morn, so soft and bright,
A ritual done in ancient rite.
A snip, a slice, a fleeting pain,
A mark that time will not regain.

A whispered prayer, a knowing nod,
A hand that moves as if by God.
Tradition’s blade, so sharp, so keen,
A tale retold, yet rarely seen.

Some call it faith, some call it fate,
A custom old, a choice innate.
A moment brief, a cry, a tear,
A symbol borne from yesteryear.

Yet whether praised or questioned deep,
It carves a path that some will keep.
For in the end, what shapes the man,
Is not just flesh, but where he stands.

"Guess what's the poem about?"
 

Tempokai

The Overworked One
Staff member
Joined
Nov 16, 2021
Messages
1,410
Points
153
I'm winning currently by rewriting that two rats story
 
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