The snakes and arrows a child is heir to
are enough to leave a thousand cuts.
We build our defenses, a place of safety
and leave the darker places unexplored.
Sometimes the fortress is too strong
or the love is too weak.
What should have been our armor
becomes a sharp and angry sword.
Our better natures seek elevation;
a refuge for the coming night.
No one gets to their heaven without a fight.
We hold beliefs as a consolation;
a way to take us out of ourselves.
Meditation, or medication.
A comfort, or a promised reward.
Sometimes that spirit is too strong
or the flesh is too weak.
Sometimes the need is just too great
for the solace we seek.
The suit of shining armor
becomes a keen and bloody sword.
A refuge for the coming night.
A future of eternal light.
No one gets to their heaven without a fight.
Confused alarms of struggle and fight.
Blood is drained of color
by the flashes of artillery light.
No one gets to their heaven without a fight.
The battle flags are flown
at the feet of the Gods unknown.
No one gets to their heaven without a fight.
Sometimes the damage is too great
or the will is too weak.
What should have been our armor
becomes a sharp and burning sword.