Sent on a mission to a world.
No clue as to what will be found.
Set down and push deeper in.
Only to be attacked but something.
Stripped of resources and cast down.
It feels like I’ve become nothing.
These doubts are creeping and working deep.
They exclaim I have been beat.
That I am useless and can’t prevail.
Each one of them finishes me to fail.
But I refuse and swear I’ll rise.
Lay my hands upon the prize.
Bruised and battered.
My fringes are shattered.
Back against the wall.
I will once again be standing tall.
I reach the summit and taste the chill.
Nothing compared to dread I feel.
Sinking feeling and tightening throat.
I am convinced I soon shall choke.
Lose my life and my claim.
Be left to decay as if I was nothing.
Terror grips and then my foe appears.
Filling me with all new fears.
Force them aside I manage to do.
Then the thing comes at me in a blink or two.
I defend myself and steal my resolve.
These are the problems I tend to solve.
Bruised and battered.
My fringes are shattered.
Back against the wall.
I will once again be standing tall.
Equal footing and even skill.
Neither has the edge to deliver the kill.
Still I refuse even though it does chant.
Every statement made ends in can’t.
Not words I heed or make efforts to discern.
Rather more focused on what I can learn.
Adapt my strategies and then it clicks.
I work out how to end this quick.
Executing it does stumble and shake.
My chance is open and it I do take.
Death blow delivered the body slumps.
I stand victorious cause my blood still pumps.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 