The Palace

I sit on the floors of this dark, cold palace. The hallways are stained with old blood and reek of malice. I've fought all these battles, gory and ferocious But what if those enemies weren't attrocious? What if the blood dripping from my sword was my own? And the pieces I cherished of myself are now worn. Now I have nothing to do but walk away, looking at myself with scorn. What happens when you're not the person you thought you were And all those years become a blur. What happens when you wake up from that dream and realize things are no longer how they seemed? What happens when your own bones become brittle from overuse And you crumble. Nothing to reach onto, nothing to use? So many questions, such little time to answer. So from now on I pace back and fourth shielded by the door, what if those old hallways contain chancers? What if they break everything ive built, and I dont find the chance to become an enhancer? But shh, there's no time to respond. You must crawl onto those stilts and learn to move on. And once you take a look back at the battles while standing on the stilts And you look at everything you have built The need for answers will no longer bother you. (id put the ending but ran out of room)