The Internal Battle
Two sides prepare for battle.,
Arguments in fisted hands.
Insults crafted into blades.
Harsh words like bullets.
Masks worn as armour.
A shield I have not.
No where to hide,
In the barren land,
No way to shelter,
From the hatred of man.
The blades collide.
The bullets are shot.
The fisted hands,
conflict with the mask.
The smile transforms,
Into anger and thrath.
Blades slice and wounds run deep,
The internal battle is put to sleep.
Let The Words Flow 