At War

A chink in the armor.

A leak in the helm.

A part of me left open for you to crash into.

Why this feeble footing so often falls below me I do not know

My aim seems straight but falters in the bow.

And I feel covered in duct tape.

Taping anger

Taping passion

Taping love from seeping through

Enough to burst.

So here is my vision. Tape that too.

I will stumble forward into this misdirection.

But feel alive

Fighting life and death inside

Fighting right and wrong—decide!

And the pain and the hope crash like rapiers against one another.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *