Sometimes I will retreat,
other times I bare my teeth.
When I fall back,
it’s often a time to slack.
Ignorance and lies,
may break my drive,
but words are just fuel,
for my return to the duel.
Complacency seems to overtake,
your very sense of the straight,
and narrow which you often make,
a priority until as of late.
Your fear I can smell,
I’m like a hound from Hell,
I fight against my chains,
with bloodthirsty eyes strained.
This war you can not win,
has bled my soul too thin,
and has left you cornered,
scared and contorted.
I’ve only begun, bring it on!