The warrior

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The thief of true joy, the slaughter of realness, the calmness of all storms and the returning saint. He that has nothing more to offer than future promises and perhaps a single moment of attention. If he used all senses he would see another world, not a fantasy that was standing there with a heart to offer. You let go only to move on for a brief moment of happiness. You endure because you can. You get the admiration cause that’s all you believe for a glimpse of a second that is all you’re worth. You step back while breathing it in, absorbing the madness. In the end you don’t know which to respond to, if they are all real, if you’re the one they have been thinking of, fighting for. You just continue as you’re hoping that one will see. So you say you’re fine and you wait. Cause that’s all the courage you have, that’s all you expect, so that’s what you get. You chose your battles as he can’t chose his, but you live not knowing who will win.

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