Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Illness

Prying eyes scour every atom of me
Every thing I am, You claim I chose to be.
1 to 10
Go on then,
Tell me do I pass your test?
After all, you do know best.

A thousand questions rain like bullets,
fired slowly from loaded muskets,
I march on, slow and steady,
towards the fire, battle ready
Tear my flesh and break my bones
But I do fight on these plains alone.

A lovers words try and quell the fire
But I am ablaze. This to, will be my pyre.
A rage as you demand that I explain
Why I let you down. When time and time again
Has it not been you, shattering me?
Have you no compassion? No humility?

No. What foolish notions to possess
That the enemy is anything less
Than a hoard of daemons that will course down my throat
Like cheap wine with friends, like pills and smoke.
I have no more words, I try but they no longer form
I am turning to ashes. I can only pray I am reborn.



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