Rage

There's a pressure behind my eyes. Electricity crackles loudly in the back of my brain. Power is screaming to get out.

But I'm just so tired.

So tired of not sleeping, so tired of being abandoned, so tired of fighting alone, watching beloved comrades fall or flee. It's me on the battlefront once again.

Maybe it's better this way. Maybe I'm stronger here, when it's me against the world.

If I must stand alone, at least I can still stand. If I must die, let it be on my feet, and let my enemy crush me to bits, for I won't stop fighting.

Fear, let him come with a knife for my back, but I'll see him face to face. Anxiety, he'll be there too, with razor's edge in hand. Self-doubt my all too constant companion, he knows my weaknesses well. Anger, I've kept him in check a long time, my ally and enemy in one. Unfocused thoughts, you've plagued me before, and I've beaten you every time. I've beaten all of you, time and time again.

If the robed harbinger must take me, like Cyrano and Wallace, he will take me in battle.

Do you even remember? Did the title of liberty ever touch you the way it does me? Do the words ring in your heart like knells in the tower, shaking your very soul?

It's perhaps a bad thing. To gain strength as I watch another walk away and say "I quit". It makes you look at yourself again. It reminds you of your heroes. Take your barren wastes of the world. Take your dead end pleasures, your broken hearted joys, and your lonesome endings.

Give me the shining streets of Heaven. Give me the way of the Almighty.