Spilled Ink

his mind a battleground

his mind a battleground

on whose cracked and barren soil

a thousand conflicts boil

where greed wrestles selflessness

modesty spars with pride

and emotion holds a knife to the throat of control.

trust struggles with doubt

focus and direction join forces against freedom

while passion and idleness lock swords.

compassion and aggression locked in eternal combat

integrity is worn down by selfish needs.

battles can be lost and won

but this war will never end.

casualties are never permanent

because with the break of dawn

each fallen warrior will rise again;

toy soldiers in a child's game.

yet his hope grows weaker by the day

and with each blow landed

his happiness wanes.

these scars are agony to hide

yet still he masks the pain

reinforcing his borders with high walls

to maintain the illusion of peace.

and though his allies tear their fine skin

thrusting themselves relentlessly against his concord

still he insists that the wall is for their protection.

and so

a war raged on inside his head

through droughts and thunderstorms

and even as his walls crumbled around him

he kept smiling.