Cortney Bartholomew Poet Light Verse

The Real Fight

So tired of fighting these demons in dreams,
In combat, like a soldier in my sleep,
With no real weapons in hand, but with words dissapear,
As disfigured sneaks up behind me, I shake off the fear,
Waking up in sweats as if I'm running a race,
Ignoring the ugly, only seeing its shape,
The pattern, the shape, the length, the height,
The atmosphere, the distance, the circumference of the fight,
The room, the place, the colors, the people,
Whatever catchs my eyes, all the details,
Think fast, my heart races, and then I wake,
Asking God to protect my heart everyday,

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