Battlefields
"Battlefields"
Life is a battlefield
we have no choice
in choosing our wars
they come to us
like magnets
eventually fate
plays its thorns
we wear its crown
there is no strategy
except that of surviving
or turning in
all our cards
the days we play
and like to number
the needle of that
sweet jazz record
repeats our glitches
the mother be our moon
and stars she swears
sweet revenge
each of us by name
through blood
we ferociously deny
our combat entrance
but oh hear our
sturdy arrival cry
victorious and
recalcitrant
battlefield faces
of the children
coming in fresh washed
and worn, little deaths
just before the dawn
eventually open the door
the desks all aligned
but it’s never sweet
nor neat in war
disordered we entreat
all numbered
for our lessons
silence like murder
settles in hustling
new fangs for blood
replace
the novice milk teeth
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"the moon through the trees"/ XavieRinato
https://youtu.be/86cJsFUT6Tw
7
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolism_of_the_number_7
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2022
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