Fred Aiken Writing

caught up in musical chairs played with toy soldiers

shooting arrows straight at my face,

blinding my sight, feeling as if this won’t end well,

because it never does, unless I put some

responsible stop loss in place

to ensure the pain will never be as severe as that time,

you know the one,

at least I think so…

come to think of it, I’ve seemed to have forgotten,

how embarrassing, please no, continue

with the battle,

cry, battles fought for keeps in abandoned fortresses to save

an uncaring princess

from an apathetic villain

made to look a lot scarier than they are,

they will,

suffering at the leisure of being the last one to a chair

when the music stops