Poems for the Lost and Found

I'm Fine

Bullets aimed at my breastplate

Swords hack at my neck

Arrows drawn to pierce my heart

My armor will not last this time.

Denting my helmet

I fall to my knees

My sword slips out of my hand

And onto the dusty ground.

Blood drips down my face, my arms, my hands, my legs

But I force a grin and tell my enemies,

"I'm fine, I'm fine. No, really, I'm fine!"

I'll stand up as my vision darkens

Stumble, but remain standing

Only to pick up my sword and fight yet again.

I'm the warrior who will not die.

Because physical death is dead to me.

My inner being is riddled with wounds,

My heart leaking bullet shells and shrapnel,

My bones cracked and severed,

My blood vessels pouring its contents,

But I tell them, "I'm fine. Really, I'm fine," and the battle continues once again.