I'm walking in the rain
Hoping the aspiration of the cool drops
Will help clear my head
Cars splash me
As I wander
Aimlessly
Your face haunts my dreams
Your death stains my hands,
With blood I never spilt
My pillow has become the terror
My sheets my straitjacket
Sleep has become the enemy
And my body longs to become a
Traitor to my mind. (a Benedict Arnold would do no better)
My demons, (of which you are)
Haunt me....cackling at my misery
Reaching their pitiful fingers out
Just for the chance to cause me pain
(physcologists muse) philosophers wonder
At the human mind
The blame we can produce
The blame I produce
Could kill me
and then I'd be the same as those (in literal and figurative sense)
Battered and bruised
In a war with the machine of death
Speedily consuming them and causing their demise
Just for me to find
Never tell me its their fault
I never even tried (help was impossible and improbable)
I hold back my tears and cry in the [silence]
As the light turns green and the soldiers march to war.
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