Forged Lillies

Bloody steel on the ground once the battle is done.

Not sure of the result, but said that I won.

Crimson liquid drips from the edge, onto the soil.

What comes after this dark turmoil?

Peeping up from the ground, the tiniest of sprouts.

Do they know they will grow from the dirt and the rough?

Or, like me, do they always have doubts?

Bright colored lilies flourish around

The dried, rusty blade, memorialized on the ground.

Just as the lilies grow at the edge of the knife,

I grow strong through the perils of life.

Scars on my skin from my time in the mud,

I move onward with pride, no longer trying to hide

These steel-forged lilies I bought with my blood.