Battles

The sun breaks and the trumpet hollers,

Marking the dawn of a new tussle.

Stand there demons set to swallow me,

Striking me hard each time.

I lay there on the fields of gloom and despair;

Bleeding out guilt-

Struck by the scepter of remorse.

My eyes sag as the torturous flames,

Seep through and taunt my scars,

Stabbed by the sphere of blatant mortals.

Mocking my wounds brush past the winds,

As I lay there stiff;

Bestrewed along the specs of chaos.

Withal,

I lay each night,

Cherishing the incandescence of the sky,

Wishing these battles will cease someday!