Conditioned to Fight

Every morning when I
wake up I get my cane
and stumble to the kitchen
to brew me a fresh steaming cup.

Of coffee. I lost my strut.

The t.v. is glaring back at me
... every station depicting
the latest round of bloodshed,
or some post skirmish follow-up

People are killing people
everywhere. It feels a hell of
a lot like World War Three.

Except this war is scattered out
more...an almost subtle ubiquitous
war. The kind that follows me.

Everywhere. I look... I see.

I have been conditioned to
fight a good fight...in spirit,
if not in deed. For the finish I
save all of my surprises.

I always stare my enemies
square in the eyes... like a
voracious wolf in the forest,
when the need arises.

I have been conditioned to never
lose...to never ever miss the things
I will never use. That is an absolute
fact.

I'm a survivor. I like it like that.

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