A Spy Among Thieves
i often compare
my life
to the everyday things we take for granted
some might aim to annihilate their lives
due to bred circumstances out of their control
others,
may find ways to wallow in it
or never find purpose,
in a life
seeming to shy away
from one,
so short lived
yet here,
or where used to be
so to speak;
i dip my head into this pristine lake
long overdue for a rinse of new blood
some kind of drained meat
or some late night lonely swim
what could a child so broken,
yet frivolous & aimless
be doing in a sanctuary as such?
the truth is,
i never belonged to anything or anywhere
in this marsh of shrapnel
or the glass floors that seem to crack
at each tap.
a slave to the pain
when i carry the burdens of others
as if i aspire to drag a dead soldier
with their intestines dismembering
into the abyss
with some expectation
to be honored with a purple heart
hysterical
life is nothing but a game of war
but that’s okay,
because in the debris and the corpses
that float atop and in the marsh
there is a lake i can find myself lost in
where only i can take myself to
for all the tears that have reminded
all the souls
of where I once wandered
have dried into the mud
and the rest
simply trickle down the stream
until the lake is overfilled and desolate