The Battled One

The rhythmic click of keys,

The tiny breath of a sigh,

The exquisite sound of her faithful friend,

And unnoticed people passing by.

She is in her own world now.

The pain and sorrows of outside

Cannot reach her fantasies;

She can return to that inner child.

But as she sits, hunched over the glowing screen,

She is not quite a child at all.

She is a free-floating spirit,

Not confined by a prison wall.

The words that appear on the blank page,

Inky black, opposite their gentle meaning,

Are not those of an innocent infant.

She knows that is no longer where she is leaning.

So we find her now, inner battle raging,

While outside she is all smiles for everyone to see.

You wouldn’t guess from what you know,

That the battled one, she is me.