You stand ready against all odds,
Holding true on fictitious front lines,
swearing the enemy is real

Much like the boy-
They all think you're crying wolf,
Searching for phantoms in normal faces

You can feel their ephemeral grasp,
make-believe fingers - tracing lines,
that make your hair stand up straight

Rock yourself to sleep,
Spear gripped tight in all-too-real hands,
They may not believe,
But your mind has seen,
Those unseen phantoms