What life is left
when I survived the life I had?
No more threats, no more enemies
No more pain, no more agonies

Just me
Just empty
Not battered,
not broken

Against the odds and
I shall conquer
Now, in good times
what to fight for?

If there
is no more life left
to survive
then am I living?

Who am I
Without my strife?
Without bitter hardship
that's pushing me forward?

And what is my problem?
Having longed so hard
for gentleness
I struggle all the same

It's pointless


© B.Bol