There's a battle that I am constantly in
Between poetry and reasoning
Most times before I even begin
Poetry wins

This battle is not fought with guns and knives
But with the constant bombardment of verses and rhymes
Attacking every corner of my fragile mind
Forcing me over to its poetic side

Where I'll live out my days as a prisoner of war
With poetry's guards watching the door
With no comfort for me as I carry the torch
Where once again poetry wins if your keeping score