forces fight for domination.
Despite aggressive intervention,
I must surrender. The dissention
is more than my mind can bear. How
can I be certain they are even there?
There's evidence that tumors grow:
the dementia that they sow. I feel
the pulses getting slow, the synapse
count becoming low. I have no option,
no place to go. And so the fight inside,
the symptoms of which I cannot hide,
rages on, and I cannot confide, for fear
that I might somehow harm my pride.
I've considered suicide, but cower,
for I cannot see the honor that's implied,
just selfishness and shame. The war
may overstep its bounds; already I hear
phantom sounds, of weapons fired, of
random rounds. As my head pounds
I fight to save my sanity, alone to save
my vanity. Damaged ego a calamity,
yet enough of it remains...