Fiery Skies

Anxious beating hearts and drums.
Hands twitch, brow furrows;
Sonatas and arias mask truths behind
paper tigers.
Bleeding swords and sharpened wrists
fall soundlessly into my dreams.

Victory: Improbable and impossible.
Soul: Uncertain and unshaken.

Come hell or high water,
I will see this through.

Quitting the field just isn’t my style.
I’d rather die a thousand deaths
than watch you fall
that one last time.