Insufficient seems life
when death takes its breath.
Battles lost; they are cruel
wins too are mingled in strife.
Beaten is the soul held within
tangled among broken dreams,
desires flame snuffed in ash;
can the battered soul win?
I know not from where this came
could be the sorrow I've hid,
growing from deep down-in;
now to surface, intent to maim.
My faith growls like molten ore
building a shield cast from iron.
When holding these crackled walls
His founding Rock-- will restore.
© 2010 OctoberMist2009
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