Arena
You granted me my freedom.
with bloody strings attached.
I willingly accepted.
Then I died and went to hell.
I'm digging a trench through blood soaked mud.
A battle hymn cries and the troops load their guns.
Freedom has the highest price.
The ultimate irony.
But no one can afford to lose.
The rest of the world munches moldy popcorn
scrambling for front row seats to watch.
Waving their white flag.
They'll get to live another day.
Rustling eyelashes fall on a few ears.
Perfume of lovers lost creeps into our noses, making us recoil with regret.
But I smile.
The soldiers are marching on.
Zombie in bodies. Bags of bones.
They're all asking the same questions.
They're all too young.
But everyone knows that children tire of old toys.
Minds try to escape the battlefield.
Body and soul separate,
a heart wrenching goodbye.
We're paying the price of happiness.
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