A Memory of My Death

Beautiful places,

hidden yellow things.

A shadow sipping tonics,

whiskeys and gins.

Ordinary people,

can embody sin.

The man in the moonlight,

trying to forget.

The world is still,

birds sleep in their nests.

But inside his soul he is,

feeling unrest.

His self-control alone,

hides the nervous wreck.

Behind barred windows,

he feels like slitting his neck.

Yesterday haunts tomorrow,

the faces staring back.

Enemy and comrades,

falling in the attack.