I don't feel protected
by the armor that I wear.
In a battle of patience,
nothing can shield me as well as
a second of composure--
something that, while under the trance of a heartbeat,
is impossible.
Or, at least, unattainable.
Prepared for combat,
I skip stones on a sea of illusions
while I ponder my next move.
Camouflage fading,
heart racing,
insecurities breaking,
I begin to run, shedding the armor
that once supported me.