To whom must I carry
This fight for my life?
May I choose the weapon
I wield in such bout?
Too much goes unchallenged
To forego the knife
It’s all souls be damned
If we don’t have it out
Or is it unwritten
More truistic lore
That what may have been
Is what yet must endure?
If such be the ruling
I fancy it time
The tables were tipped
To new flavour of crime
I’m deluged by duty
The dreadfullest foe
And Wednesday’s child
Has a head-ful of woe
A small enough wager
This minimal soul
All but shredded for bandages
Wholesomely foul
To gather her forces
Aye, therein the rub
With little to muster
And less up above
But battle she will
Nay, still stronger – she must
Ere the blood in her veins
Stains the dust dirty rust
So passionless sweethearts
Untruthful and grey
Be leached of my love
And stay hidden away
I’ve a need to reclaim
All the hours I lost
And hold views on the interest
Added to cost
Here’s a health to the vigorous
May she prepare
For all that her demons
Can throw at her there
It soon will be ended
Decided and done
And with luck of the draw
She may keep what is won
The darkest hour is just before dawn, but your sun will rise, and when it does, it will be brilliant.
Thanks Myke. My last few poems posted seem to have gone to a rather dark place.
I understand… I have read them all… Sometimes I am just at a loss for words.