The Blade They Bear
As the sun melts away and the shadows advance,
I sink into a chair; gaze at the dying light.
I should think 40% would do just fine, there's a chance,
of sinking in swiftly to sleep so white-
soft noise to drown the cries of all men,
and the pain of the chase for occasioned success,
and the knowledge that I shall soon be up again,
to live for what reason? I couldn't care less.
Let me dream, please let me dream!
Let me walk in the land out of thought, out of sight ...
There's a curse we must bear, yet no one can scream,
when faced with dark foes wielding swords black as night
that slash the flesh and pierce the heart of me.
The blade they bear: responsibility.
30 October 2018
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