Battle
Losing a battle with yourself
is the worst kind of defeat
There is no victor
There is no enemy to destroy
No weapons to lay down
when it's all over
There is only blood and silence
Casualties of the army of men inside of you
that believed you could prevail
Years of faith and conviction
now lay at your feet, lifeless
Their eyes still open
staring blankly at you
as if silently asking
How could you lead us to certain death?
You are their grieving mothers
You are their angry sons
You are their murderer
Who do you fight for now?
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