Her Fortress

She stands behind her fortress walls,
poised to defend or attack her desperate enemy.
I stand outside poised with my gleaming sword of eternal virtue,
contemplating my strategy to vanquish her stronghold.
Slowly, the drawbridge opens,
exposing her to the inevitable onslaught.
Then in an instant, it shuts again.
As she retreats to her armory,
filled with the slings and arrows of vindication.
She grabs a gleaming sword of perfect steel
sharp enough to decapitate a foe with a single blow.
Outside the walls the stench of bloated bodies
floating like carp in the stagnant moat fills the air
and envelops me like a burial shroud.
I load my trebuchet and hurl gigantic boulders
at the towering wall and scurry to avoid being crushed.
as the boulders bounce harmlessly off the impenetrable walls.
My armor is pierced by the onslaught of arrows
as if it were made of tissue.
My gleaming sword strikes without effect
at the endless legions that attack without end.
Perhaps my arsenal was built with
faulty steel forged in fires too cold
Once again it’s time to retreat
as I search for something, anything
to break down the walls