Your Poetry Dot Com - A Sense of Self

Once again, i find myself with pen in hand,
Brandishing words like a blade as I ravage this land.
Speaking of tales both new and old,
Refusing to quit while my senses slowly grow cold.

It wasn/'/t always like this from what I recall,
Like Courage traded for Fear as we watch this world fall.
But how is this right? And with whom should I fight?
When confusion abounds and my vision it blights?

Should I open my mouth and state the facts?
Should I shut my eyes and forgive those vile acts?
Should I cover my ears and give into fear?
Should I pinch my nose as the toxicity grows?

With all these questions coming to light,
my mind is now open but no answer is in sight.
My heart beats frantic as it prepares to go to war,
with patience depleted and my kindness all but worn

I take up the pen, my answer to the madness.
Tearing through page after page to conquer the sadness.
And continuing the fight, this war is long from done,
I will not drop my pen again until this fight has been won.

This poem is Copyright © Shadowman