My war

Surrounded by love,
And sheltered by pain,
I have nothing to lose,
And nothing to gain,

I’m sick of the way,
My cards are dealt:
Always face down,
With the worst result,

I prepare for each day,
Hoping it’s my last,
I pray for the future,
But live in the past,

I drink my coffee,
Wishing it was tea,
I pay the expense,
And imagine it’s free,

I’m sick of keeping it all a secret,
Yet watching the truth slip out,
I’m sick of being brave enough,
But unable to face out my doubts,

I’m sick of fighting a war with myself,
Of being beaten back by life,
I’m sick of trying to protect myself,
Whilst my hand holds the knife,

Surrounded by love,
And sheltered by pain,
I have nothing to lose,
And nothing to gain,