. . . foolish or a fool less . . .

the morning is creeping across the window
and the coffee cup in my hand let's me know
i can still feel outside the wall of too many thoughts
that shadow every moment of waking
another day another battle never heard or seen by others
my own private war against time and consequence



so another day begins and it taunts once more
daring with growing light for me to keep my footing
forge ahead and rage against the hours if you can
the days that send blows of disheartened sorrow
barreling down with claws barred and ready
i will not be moved no matter how torn i become



fate and life know me so well
know how tenacious i am
reworking the scenario to test me once more
to see how far i might slip into oblivion
same intensity and purpose  
just another weapon chosen



familiar battle lines just taunting in a different mask
and they know i will not back down ever
see me and know my resolve as it is not so fragile
though my heart beats in feathered whispers
and my blood flows easily with every wound
mixing with tears as i curse myself for allowing them



shoot to me every arrow of sorrow
tipped with the poison of despair
i will catch every one and return them tenfold
a barrage of my determination to take every blow yet still stand



not matter how bloody i become i will still raise my head
still rise to the challenge in my stubborn determination to prove myself
still stare and smile wickedly as they ready another volley



they bring their best against me
if i fall to my knees no matter
i will still get up even if i want to stay upon the ground
not now not yet



i will not yield and fate and time know me well
but at least i can still feel the coffee cup
in my hand