This is the third of thirty sonnets I’m writing this month to celebrate five years of sobriety. It’s called “The Enemy” because it is based on the third season episode of the same name. It doesn’t really have anything to do with sobriety, unless you think it does? If you detect in super artistic subtlety please submit your praise in the comments so I can be sure to do it again. Thanks in advance!

The Enemy

Vulnerability, who'll show it first,
which one of us shall shun brinkmanship's thrill
and pull us back to the best from the worst,
with strengthened faith? The answer is, I will.

Your metabolism messed up, nervous
system with havoc wreaked, can't hardly move
yet call me prisoner - hilarious.
Why act as though you have something to prove?

You may address me as Savior. I'll call
you Survivor - without me your life would still be in jeopardy, lost amidst all
this magnetic interference, for good.

Who holds the high ground when crises begin?
Are heroes just the enemies who win?