The Warrior Without Armor

There is a fire in my soul. I realize that I, along with time, will soon die But i quiver with fear at the sight of pain And i cover my ears to the sound of agony I am not a warrior My fire is easy to deplete. My battle scars are numerous, and my victories few. My mind reaches new levels of anxiety when I think of the clock Ticking. Ticking. Ticking. The ticking will soon stop. The batteries soon to be depleted. The fire will soon burn out Or it will be washed with torment and sorrows. I want the sounds to go away. I want the endless talking in my head to cease. I do not know how to end it. Not the time, but the pain. I want more time. I am greedy, or at least my head keeps telling me so. I do not know how to end it. The endless talking. The endless whispering. The endless madness. I just want it to end. It to en- . . . . . -She didn’t believe she was a warrior.