Battle Cry

Gentle pink skies, gentle pink cheeks

I look with my rosy pink lenses;

The poet in sadness finds freedom,

And in freedom his unrestrained solitude.

These fierce tears that creep stealthily across,

I pray will someday learn

To be proud of its feats in war,

To be soft on the outside and hard in self.

Do not go raving in stark insanity,

Do not go in with spikes bared,

Do not lose the pinkish tints of sight,

Do not go in without a battle cry.

Do not go gentle into that war-like night.

– a.h.


It’s 6.50am and the sky looks as though it was made just for the lonely souls. It reflects my inner desire to be happy and feel genuinely happy regardless of what others may tell me — for be soft. Be soft in this wild, unkempt world and do not ever “go gentle into [the] good night”.

” Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ” – Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas


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