Herculean Thoughts

XII.

This feels like a bloody battle,
but no bloodbath is seen.
Rather, it's suffocating.
The lack of space to move,
the absence of air to breathe,
the pressure filling up my lungs.
I want to burst out,
yet i'm not given the chance.

I want this to end, I wish to break free.
But the flag of victory,
its location too unknown to see.
Searching for worms like the birds,
I scraped my brain, looking for a hole
through which I can escape---
an option if the battle weighs too much.
Yet, no hole was seen.

With hands shaking and visions blurring,
I then held my heavy sword,
Hoping I win and end this all.
In every twitch of my toes,
I feel my sword gliding on my legs.
It hurts and tears started trickling my nasty cheeks.

Surrendering is the solution,
is what my mind spits.
For once, I crave to do what it said.
Yet, slitting my throat with my sword,
is too much to be done with my weak arms.

I am too weak to end the battle,
yet too hopeful to be the victor.
So I am stuck with a sword on hand,
struggling to stand on the ground.

What must a troubled soldier do?
Must he keep on holding on his sword?
And use it to make the exit he wishes for?
Or must he use the blade on his own neck?