The enemy within…

Even as those words gnash like a knife

Or, the wrongs wring me out,

the adversary that tears me in strife

Need I be torn apart,

The hurt, the hate,

should it hurl back at the enemy,

the anger in spate?

What could be worse,

Than not wresting that, which turns my being terse?

If only I would realize,

I need to conquer within

That enemy, which creeps upon my being;

To overpower me as a weakling

The cloud that hovers

In that shadow of doubt, the ‘me‘ cowers

To see only spears, swords lashing out

As does my anger, in a monstrous surge, to wipe out

What’s left behind is but a wreck of my own;

To have been pained, had I known

Is what I breathe into my being-

To become a thorn or a flower is what I will to be sown?