The Enemy

I fight you every single night. I fight you tooth and nail. When I close my eyes I end up dreaming future frails. I'm not a prophet as I lay, but I walk in future's ghostly ways. Ahead I've seen troubles further sent. Oh my Lord not to me. Yet my Lord won't relent. I also dream of the past, mostly war's shadows cast. Sometimes of love forgone of hearts with empty songs. Girls with colored hair, in crayon flair. In others I get to go to heaven. On those occasions I wake up telling almost joyful yelling. So I struggle with the fight, fist and might. Eventually comes the darkness and its night. as I lose to the closure of this world, my eyelids down, closed in full unfurl. Opening them to my new venture I awake. I pray I don't see a mouth and I'm the steak.