War
Distant drums are beating.
War is on her way.
I once wished for peace,
once prayed to the
almighty Lord for
a sort of sanity in mad times.
I was ignored.
Wave after wave of
psychological warfare beating
against my mind, eroding the
walls I had built.
Distant drums are beating.
War is on her way.
I once cried out for help,
once sobbed in the
crumbling ruins of lucidity because
I couldn’t handle anymore pain.
I was ignored.
Trauma hit again and again,
bullets breaking through glass,
a musical shattering and a
shower of rainbow reflections.
The drums they keep on beating.
War is nearly here.
The floor is crumbling fast now,
I am slipping through the cracks.
I reach out for a helpful hand but
there was nobody there.
I was ignored.
Slowly suffocating beneath the
weight of the world and the
weight of memories I
don’t know how to handle.
The drums have reached their climax.
War is laughing atop her steed.
The feeble resistance I had
previously managed has
fallen fast beneath the
weight of many.
We are ignored.
There is no stopping the madness,
no stopping the bloody war to come.
I run for as long as I can, but
I am not perfect and I fall.
The drums have gone quiet.
War has won and moved on.
Lying bloodied and broken on
the deteriorating pavement I
stare into the sky without seeing,
a fragment of my past self.
I will be ignored.
Repression, depression, they
have caught me and pulverized me,
made me wish for sanity, made me
hope for death.
And he will not ignore.