Can’t Find Myself
they whisper in corridors
tongues rolling from side to side in secret rhythms
disguising the truth
forging the pain
and only when the honest pass
do they straighten their heavy-burdened backs
and paint the smiles required
for the righteous
only
they don’t exist
and I’m left waking to the same routine
losing myself in the process
covering my eyes when they speak
tongues slashing from side to side in secret joy
unexpected
tears stain the pillow
voices crack through the skull
pictures of a life gone haunt
and the piercing arrow in the gut
has blood painting the stone it carved
What’s Next?
after all the people died
and leaders have served
where will the lives of the few take them?
when all the values have changed
and the isolation burn our brains
do we lose understanding?
or do we step on the souls of the past
never to utter a single word about them
all the while saluting death?
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