Waterloo Poem by Hannington Mumo

With every extra inch into darker depths
Wherein lean lot's venomous fang bites,
I brave worse pains and stings that rise
Past all steel into hitherto unfelt heights.

Every fresh day calls exacerbated fears
That trim stouter hope and fuller cheers,
Dealing fatal blows to potent prospects;
Fogging mirrors whereon all life reflects.

Even while I deem the battle finally won,
Still I meet emboldened missiles hurled
Onto the assumed triumphant champ;
Stilling his flying flag and grinning gun.

All past winnings turn to neutered starts,
In this ceaseless racing to a shifting line;
No first milestones earned via iron guts,
Ever long stand as an encouraging sign.

End-lines alter and time hops backward,
As I duel against Fate's nine-lifed sword.