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๐€ ๐Š๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ž๐ซ

Two soldiers in an empty room.
One on his bed, a tale he read.

Bleak barracks, sombre like a tomb;
The second woke and quietly spoke:

โ€œI feel this day a sense of doom,
For with a knife I took a life.โ€

The other answered in the gloom:
โ€œThen I must know โ€” a friend or foe?

I think a foe โ€” that Iโ€™ll assume โ€”
The one who fell โ€” so all is well.โ€

And so did silence then resume;
But one, afraid, he clutched a blade.

โ€” D.N. Oโ€™Brien