The Battle of Again

The past is etched in the fire and brimstone of hell
Forming a story that I do not regret, though I know it well.
It wreaks havoc within the here and now sublime.
There is no holy nor unholy way to uncarve time,
To change what has been written in history's noble posts.
In my youth, they said the past had a haunting potential to create future ghosts.
I had no idea the truth of that platitude inscribed upon a tender heart,
No intention of finishing what I did not start.
Yesterday a mighty fortress imprisons, holding sweet emotion hostage again.
I am subdued, defeated, a pawn in the game of what has already been.
There is no fight to fight, no battle a fair struggle could ever win.
All the king's horses and all the king's men won't let me live those days again.
A war of vicious, malevolent words silently screams to be wildly spoken
At the untethered tearing of frail human bonds we have broken
While not a vile breath is whispered past lips that are pursed
With the empty abyss between us, there's no need to make worse.
The votes are in and the tally duly counted up right.
My spirit protests with every shattered bit of its might
Though the scorecard says I have completely lost the fight.
Surrendered to slumber to wait the dawning of the morning light.
In the 'Battle of Again' there's no champion ever to come forth
Save for the candle that lures in the unsuspecting flitting moth.