a scream
A roar. A plea.
In my lowest moments
When the weight
Throttles my worlds
Throat and I know
The face of my enemy
Each time I catch
My reflection
And what comfort there is
In knowing I can beat him
Make him work for me
Than against me
Friends and lovers
Turn away when he declares
Victory but I know my foe
As I know myself
So let me weep again
Raise a glass to him
‘War, tomorrow?’
MB Blissett 