Poetry

The Battle

I realized in all the little moments how scared I was.
How when I was asked about my past I could do nothing but stare into empty spaces with simple answers.
Like a statue that wasn't quite put together correctly.
How when the time came to really feel something good I appreciated the feeling but never tried to cherish the memories for I knew how they would break.
The problem with everything is I stared hate straight in the eyes and shattered.
He keeps my demons warm at night and I keep my soldiers always in waiting.
Always ready for another attack.
I call it the attack of the heart.