I carry with me;
To the Pre-determined battle field,
A pocket...
Inside my velvet pocket;
There are twelve little white stones,
They remind me of unnecessary weight,
One can bundle along with them,
Just for the sake of carrying,
Something else that could cause nuisance.
I am a warrior,
I put on my Armour - food
I squash down feelings with it,
I eat my life away
A coward, it could be said,
For not facing distresses,
Pr oven to weak to conquer,
A pitiful creature, i well may be,
To crush emotion into a single crumb,
Of every bite i take
Digest these thoughts ?
I think not
Lets build up the defenses
What may happen when vest of flesh;
Grows to heavy to carry,
And the wall of jelly does not protect me,
Like the once solid wall of steel.
What will you see ?
Emotion ; Raw emotion,
Not a corpse nor cattle,
Not a skeleton ( hopefully )
or a pig ; just feeling,
An oracle of sentiment.
What when i no longer wish,
To build my fortress of pounds,
I ran out in the open to the firing line,
More vulnerable than ever before,
I am here, hit me, take your best shot,
You will only anger her ; and make me pay,
Perhaps you could let down your sword ;
And leave me alone.
i am a warrior,
and i lay before you,
My Armour,
Piece by piece i remove my shell,
To reveal an individual,
Not seen innocent skies,
For four long years.
