#WritcoPoemPrompt8
Every soul that passes the gate,
Has passed a test of fate,
Trudging along on tired feet,
Almost there, refusing open defeat,
Once in, no man can't tell about hate,
The once loved is stained by own mate and recklessness times them out late.

No pain, no feeling never been felt,
At least at the clash of a shiny mallet,
the prisoned rage escapes like a fleet,
Free...