Head down,
Back hunched.
The clenched white teeth
Stick out from the otherwise dirty face.
Strength so lacking.
And the knees are buckling
Heavily they fall
Into the ground below.
A fog of dust rises.
We do not claim the victory.

Heavy eyelids
And they fall.
Tears leak out
And they have their freedom.
Their trails leave clean stains
Through all the dirt.
The tears, they fall gently
Not even attempted to be wiped away
They are allowed to continue their journey
Down down, they can’t be stopped.
And once again
The victory is not ours.

A shaking hand,
Into a clenched fist.
An arm with veins raised,
And quivering muscles,
It is raised slowly.
A fight against
The gravity pulling it down.
And gravity will loose,
Only for now.

That hand, it grasps a tattered strip of fabric
Up it goes
Its presence stays in the air only for a moment
And then the shaking, clenched, fist
It falls.
Lack of hope is so apparent
Breathing heavy
A head hanging low
A face dirty with painted stripes of fallen tears
I raise a white flag.
And am left to lay on the battlefield,
Completely surrendered.