On a misty battle field
My opponent holds a shield
Tall and wide so I can’t see
What is fancy what is real
He lures me near then strikes me down
I should leave him there but I’m lost in his sound
Is he confused, lonesome, afraid
Or cold, unmoved, with nothing to say
I could knock and ask (I’m supposed to be brave)
But his walls of steel take my voice away
So my heart is cut to shreds
When I make use of my defense
Because there’s nothing on this end
But love for him and reverence
Am I the pawn, am I the hand
That plays the game and makes it stand
Should I move now or wait to see
If he will ever face me
How can I yield, desert or fight
When I can’t see the other side?
Isidora Works 