This is so much worse than

what the rest of the exiles

said it would be like for me

and I think I have to blame someone

other than you this time,

starting with your word,

it sounds so harmlessly honest

that its strength is too noteworthy to pass up

for anything of any higher caliber.

It’s gotten a name for itself with the pariahs,

and I’ll be the first to admit that I’d

prefered it to my own at one point,

but what do I know about honesty?

I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t a committed liar,

or killer,

or monster,

I would be up in that refuge with you

sipping promises and punishments with the surest of reasoning,

but that’s not something you would have allowed.

You have no vacancies for the destitute that have already

given you all of the nothing they had,

those are the kinds that expect too much

and can still see the better versions of themselves

waiting for some sort of reimbursement;

those are the savages that are too saturated

to be empty enough

to drink in the second rate spins on the world

that are waiting in you pockets,

but I’ve heard your supply lines are running low

and I’m afraid this collective has been drained of its sympathizers.

This is where the war starts and I can

already hear the sound of a thousand soldiers

shaking in their t-shirts with an envious ambition

that’s been targeting you ever since you noticed you stopped moving -

and so begins the onslaught of silence we’ve craved.

The violence is quick

and its beats are steady

and before it could become anything

it stopped.

 

Step two, new you

and new everyone else

because let’s face it this armor could fit anyone

and there’s a line longer

than our history of differences to try it on;

this isn’t about a truce or fallback it’s an anarchy

finally gripping at our open woundpoints

and screaming into our bloodstream

that it’s time to quit sleeping and actually try

something different for once,

because the standard sets won’t listen anymore

and I can hear the changes breaking the dams

around our castle

and letting the water run through our fingers

and past our yelling

to that godawful happy place

where the targets and archers can meet for a day

and fake peace.

So let us raise our shields and spears

to the hour of our own and to that last step

to forgetting that time is a blessing

that is bought

not earned

and no one has been saving our pennies

for that passing grace that will declare us dead

before present,

and let us raise our broken arms and arrows

to the neglect of the many

for the thrill of the few

and give a hand to our losses

sold and gone

we are safety’s pets,

now drop down,

grab the soil and cry;

stop worrying about yourself

there’s more to be had than you are to realize,

and beginnings are always the scariest,

but there is so much to our surroundings to listen to

and it can’t all be remembered

so we’ll have to be the loudest

and kick,

and scream,

and run,

until our tantrum’s a warrior of its own,

until it knows a greater victory

than the kings of the past or the agitators of the moment.

We are to be the last of the great unknown,

and we are to allow ourselves our own conquest of rights.

This is the last chance to be powerful

and so far it hasn’t been taken.