Pain

I am sitting here at my desk

gazing out the window,

watching the shadows deepening

on the early autumn leaves,

my loyal dog companions sleeping on the floor beside me.

Looking peaceful and relaxed,

their soft snoozing a rhythmic beat

the only sound in the deafening silence,

unbeknownst to them,

there is a battle going on near them,

a battle to see who will win the ongoing war.

This battle is within me,

as I sit in my leather chair,

with the scent of dogs and hints of mint

from a old cup of tea

there is another scent in the air,

it is one of fear.

There are grenades blasting off along the edge of my heel,

flames are licking down the sides,

burning sensations creeping closer to the soul of my foot,

the only ceasefire is when I raise my foot,

trying to find relief from a battle that rages daily.

Pain,

pain takes pleasure in throwing missiles at my body,

it toys with my emotions,

giving my false relief from time to time

showing up like a snipper ready to take down it’s target.

I never know where to look,

my position has been compromised again.

Will it be the sharp shocks exploding at my very core?

Will it spray me with bullets as I reach my artist arm out to pet my dogs,

keeping me from peace

robbing me of sleep.

In this moment, it’s chosen a new battlefield

one that I have little experience with,

the bottom of my foot,

what weapons do I use to fight back?

Tired, frustrated, no more,

I will flush it out,

see where it’s are hiding.

It may try to break me,

It may try to strike at me,

It might win some battles,

But I will win the war.

This was originally posted on Medium.