Slumped against the wood grained door
my sword clatters to the ground.
I can no longer take the beating,
I can no longer hold the weight of my head.
Their psychic battle savages my mind;
pulling and pushing as they try to claim.
Each one wanting to lock into my soul
and pull it into their realm of hell.
I do not know how much longer I can hold on,
I can find no hole to hide.
A tangled web of colored illusions
the sole shield I can muster;
as I try to escape their rage.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
May 19/17
