Dedicated below these few lines are for the unrelenting spirit of a few of my colleagues:
You have been blooded, said the old man to his son,
It’s now that you are fit to fight,
I know you are now wounded; it’s only now your minds in flight.
The sound of a moist pen on the arid folds of paper,
Its crease on the wilted white,
Proved more firm than words on stone,
For you knew your spirit was right.
Write on, pledge every drop of blood to the color in your pen,
For I know this was not once, such battles will happen again.
Go on Bangkwang!