What gives people the right to stand there and stare?
To aim their scopeless eyes down at me?
They all seem armed with a full clip
of misunderstanding and confusion,
judging eyes glazing over with heartlessness.
What gives me the tenacity to stand there
and stare that muzzle in the face?
Resisting the shiver of fear
from shimmering down my spine;
repressing those bullets of shell-shocked inferiority.
Yet it is not long
before something begins to give
under the onslaught of subjectivity.
My shield, peppered with social buckshot,
slowly begins to fall apart.
With less and less time to repair
and mend between each incident,
things start to fire through.
The impersonality of others begins to get personal.
Sniping deeply into my heart, ripping through
My realities and social conformities
of this never-ending war.
Shattering what lies beneath the surface
and leaving only a shell to struggle on.
Each day finds triumphs that are more
and more meaningless.
Leaving a void of desperation and loneliness
to march its troops in.
Reinforcement and support
radio that they will be there.
But still I fight this war on
Each night, waiting for the dawn
to bring new hope.
Each day, waiting for the darkness to recuperate
and bring more inspiration.