The Fight is Over

I’m tired.  It’s time to lay down my weapons.

The battle has rendered me weak and spineless.

You may see an unfeeling rock, but it is a façade.

What you see is a carefully-designed mirage.

My mind and heart were just playdough, 

Thrown away when it was dry and brittle,

The fragile lump no longer useful. 

Once I was strong and powerful, a certain victor,

Now defeated, broken, and surrendered.

In my fight for success doors were closed;

My words were not clever and sweet.

In my fight for love I was only mocked

For true love is not meant for me. 

In my fight for acceptance I lost to fear,

Succumbing to its clamoring voices.  

Mockery, failure, fear: you have won.

I am no longer strong enough to fight you.

My fate is certain and I must accept it, 

Relegated to the throng of sadness.