Battle

Is it quiet enough here in your head? The chaos of the mind has subsided to a dull roar. The battle with self has come to a stalemate. Both sides have withdrawn, not in retreat, but in an attempt to resupply. The rancid smell of past thoughts permeate your senses. Memories are left strewn across the war-zone, their death stark upon your emotions. It is time to recruit new dreams to send into the fight, to become heroes; or be left for dead on the battlefield in your head. That the battle could be won says nothing of the war in your soul. It is here that the conflict escalates to nuclear proportions. Even though you hold your fingers over the button, your resolve is smashed. You bring those trembling fingers to your face, wipe the tears, and know you have failed again. Or is it failure when you live to fight another day? A simple foot soldier in the trenches of yesterday never believes they are the future General of tomorrow. Often you live in the present fight, with tunnel vision focused on the enemy surrounding you. It is hell when you realize that the enemy is only you. But your back is against the wall and you are not accustomed to losing. And the battle rages on, dreams are shattered against the front lines of reality. The masses engulf the weak; will is broken. The once barren plains now run red with the blood of hope. The skies are clouded with the mists of loss and the scent on the air induces the desire to stop breathing forever. The last sounds you hear are screams. You never realize that the screams are your own.