The Chosen Few

When something is precious,
We keep it close.

Protect it, keep it safe from harm.

To do this we must arm ourselves.

 

My armour are those I hold dear,

The ones I turn to in times of fear.

Those who have seen tears shed and never fled.

And never will.

 

What can we do when the chosen few are not close-by,

Distance separating our beating hearts

With the worry of the ship falling wrecked.

 

Know: I keep you, I hold you.

My precious piece of armour.

You’re everything I need,
why my heart beats and bleeds.

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