Thoughts racing

Round and round

Good defeated by evil

Lost in a single bound.

Silently she sits

Wiping her face now and then

Walls crumbling down

As she reaches for the pen.

Her defenses are gone

Hands raised in defeat

She puts point on paper

To admit she is beat.

The words flow out

As tears continue to fall

She brushes them away with anger

She must answer this call.

She lays down the pen

Page filled with dots and despair

She folds the damp paper

With incredible care.

She places it on her desk

Stands high so she can fall

She raises her eyes to Heaven

And finally answers the call.