When Lived
My mind is a mass of broken glass
My soul is red and raw
My love is a cloud of mustard gas
My body is the law
My innocence sits in memories
My memories are lies
My wish is all to rest in peace
My prospects buzz with flies
And if I were not empty, all I would contain
Are the many types, the any types, the every types of pain.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world