“The Fort I Never Left (Because I Was Broke)”

 

Wars aren’t won by the might of armies,
but by how well-fed they are.
And me? I’ve been running on zeroes so long,
even my shadow stopped following me...it couldn’t afford the rent.

I never left my fort.
Not because I was brave,
but because I couldn’t afford the toll at the drawbridge.
Turns out, courage is easier when you’ve got snacks.

A dear friend once said,
“You have many knives, but not a single blade that’s sharp.”
And I laughed,
because I’ve been collecting tools like a sentimental hoarder...
each one dull, but emotionally significant.

I’ve got ambition in a jar,
next to expired dreams and a coupon for hope
that no longer scans at checkout.

Still, I sit here,
in my dusty little keep,
watching the world march by in polished boots,
while I patch my socks with metaphors
and ration my laughter like it’s the last tin of sardines.

But don’t mistake stillness for surrender.
Even a dull blade can glint in the right light.
And one day, when the pantry of my spirit is restocked,
I’ll step out...not to conquer,
but to dance awkwardly in the sun
and maybe sharpen one knife… just enough to slice an apple.