Bullet Proof

By Jessica Lake 1990

I am the man whom bullets miss.

I walk unscathed through the slings and arrows

That lay low lesser men.

Yet, I am a casualty of life just the same.

I have tread where fools tread

A glint in my eye, my head held high,

While all about me others lost theirs

In the heat of battle.

The carrion of my mates lie about me silent and morbid.

While I stand alone—haute and proud.

My resolve an impenetrable fortress

Safe from onslaught sly or overt.

Now, near day's end, I stand desolate

A pristine redoubt on life's battlefield.

But as evening grows I become weak and clumsy

And the battle moves on leaving me a forgotten relic.

I can not rejoin the fight

For my cold haven holds me captive.

To escape I must abandon what I have built.

The stones of doubt whose mortar is fear.

A man can stand alone.

But at what price this hollow victory?