be kind, it's been a long time since i wrote poetry

the world whispers to me
in stifled screams
and bleeds in deep raw colors
and while i wait
patiently
for whatever catastrophe to hit
i grow weary of the chase. 

i wish to rest
but this sword and shield are too heavy
to put down.
i fear i'll never pick them up again.
then mores the pity
for a world without a defender.

so i will sit here by this tree
and watch the one eyed man hang upside down
waiting for his inspiration.
just as i wait for my battle.