The Infinite Battle

By Alyssa T.

The battle of love is the most endless, miraculous fight,
And we continue to cause blood over loves beautiful sight.
Spilling our guts, and causing much gore,
Only to beg, and plead for again one more.

The cry for war is common and heard throughout the night,
As calls for newly bloodshed bring forth the deadly flight.
He draws his sword, cleaving darkness with its peculiar gleam,
Awaiting death, avenging evil, the hatred that would be seen.

He befriends his blade, the enchanted singer of death,
A weaponry that determines the length of each suffering breath.
"Come forth," he yells unbridled, "Or are you not a man?"
Boldly pursuing the dragon of hopeless, dagger in his hand.

And from the shadows it emerges, such beauty cannot be described,
The scales of its back sparkled of black and white, much alike the moonlit sky.
Its breath of doom licked your face with fire, leaving your body to fray.
And its jewel-like green eyes bore holes through any spirit in its way.

But the swordsman, so eager to kill, could not see in time,
The consequences he may receive for completing his crime.
So he continued on, pushing death on the dragon,
Thrusting his sword through the air, hoping to reach out and stab him.

And with one last blow he did succeed, driving his blade into the beasts heart,
Yet with all his celebration, he only felt pain - leaving him back at the start.
What was it that he had just killed? A devil he had thought,
But could he have just murdered the one precious thing he had sought?

And as he stands above his victory - a monster brutally slain,
He realizes the amount of his beauty that he had stained.
The moral was clear, though it had so easily remained stealth,
The only monster he was fighting, was the monster within himself.

Forever he was to live life alone, inside him, remarkable pain,
For what he had defeated was not a monster, nothing that should have been slain.
His darkest days were now upon him, not gracing him from above,
For what he had destroyed upon this battle, was his one true love.

Never again would he feel the wind, caress his skin with its heavenly grace,
Never again would he feel that smile ever approach his unhappy face,
And never again would he hold his head high, to wish and never to dream,
Please remember as you onward in battle, that things aren't always as they seem.

But as day breaks, and night crawls away,
Wars' doom-like existence has again fallen astray,
Dawn approaches rapidly - paving its path in gold.
But to return again once the darkened day turns cold.