Windmills

Does armor mean I don't have flesh? Perhaps
I donned this armor so I could protect
Myself. You don't think every hard word saps
My strength. You deny or do not detect
That I am deeply sensitive, sharp nerves
That die to fire with all my mind observes.

My love for you is like an iron plate
Across my chest, emboldening me
Against my fear of failing. I berate
Myself for failing yet to make you free
To do the things you wish to do. I chide
Myself because I work yet can't provide.

I have to steel myself against the thought
That every moment that I work on my
True work it's stolen and not truly bought.
I feel I steal my family blind; I'd die
To learn that it was true. There's no delight
In failing as your family's fearless knight.

My armor seems to strengthen me, but rusts
Inside -- I fear it will collapse, expose
The part that has to create art, that lusts
To make and make and make, a drive that grows
And always threatens me and those I love --
My hand should be clad in a workman's glove.

I want to be your noble knight, and I
Will make the sacrifices that I need
To make. An iron knight must always try
To do what's right, to do the noble deed.
I shake in fear that I will show some fear
And show that I am not what I appear.

Oh, rusty armor, can I count on you?
My wife, my life, my shield, I have to count
On you. I am too delicate, I have to count
On you. I am too delicate, it's true.
I fear I ride on Sancho Panza's mount
And not a noble steed. I've orchids on
My crest. Am I a knight or just a pawn?

I wonder, are my battles just? Or am
I just bullheaded? Do I sacrifice
The right or wrong things? Is my life a sham?
I fear my training is a joke. I'll slice
Myself to pieces, not an enemy.
What kind of knight have I turned out to be?

But, mounted on a donkey, rusted mail,
I have to fight to keep my family safe.
At least, I must allow myself to fail.
This rusty armor's tight -- I feel it chafe,
But know I have to keep it on so I
Ensure they live, though I may have to die.