THE VANQUISHED

I thought I was invincible

or as close as I needed to be.

I thought I was the rock � or the hard place

or something relatively indominable.

I am not.

I am nothing of the sort.

I see

again and again

How I am a victim

the conquered

Some flotsam before your storm

roadkill beside your sixteen-wheeler.

I am the mighty oak

and you are the torrential storm

pulling me

blowing me

washing me away.

I am nothing before you

would want to be conquered

make all surrender conditions you request.

I am beaten.

I am yours.