when you've never had to use one.
Bruise from the blue steel:
these black mornings
proceed a-wake through fields
of unmarked graves.
Every day is like a funeral-
being strong,
then falling to your knees
when everyone is gone.
Everyone is gone.
I'm falling.
I pray that God
can reconcile my wrongs-
most people aren't as forgiving
as they let on.
Forgive me, for my
stigmatic palms are the remnants
of a sacrificial offering
of holding-on-too-long.
The nine's piercing cries
emanate from the lake-bottom.
"Dry your tears,
nobody hears them anyway."
Nobody knows my deepest secrets,
I've locked them away with monsters
in a stomach full of swallowed pride
and keys- to never see the dawn again.
Dreamers die young,
or fall victim to nightmares.
Fall-victim.
I've been fighting
for a lifetime:
far too long to remember,
or want to.
How I long for a full nights sleep,
for a genuine conviction of optimism,
but my dreams all died slow.
Rest in, piece.
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