One man army

I’m a walking metaphor, a melting candle-
dripping in the hot wax of time-gone-by.
I’m a one-man army, a churning piston-
beating in the caverns of neglected captivity.

I don’t need another person, I don’t need the resting heartbeat-
the quiet before the storm is never quiet.
A churning in the gut as my kingdom rumbles once more-
towers sway from nausea, lighthouse dims from exaughstion.
There’s no way to hide, not anymore.

I’m not ready to live, but too ready to die-
Failure is an un-invited witness in the dead of night.
Im not ready to shoot, but too eager to stroke the trigger-
Oppurtunity is smoke through a key hole.

I’m a one man army, and life is flooding in the trenches.
I’m a reckless soldier, pivoting on un-given orders.
I don’t want the serenity, don’t crave the attention.
All I need is another chance to fly.
All I fear is another fall into darkness.