the ways of fallen men

beaten into fragments

herded into holes

chased into the inside

bending with the folds

 

leave me alone

I raise a stifled shout

I’m lonely and it’s dark

but dark is always better they say

when searching for an arc

 

a silent scream

a swallowed cough

a sneeze that never comes

a vacant breath

a heaving chest

words are never done

 

pressing on into the dark

to the corner of the pen

wanting to be released

but we burrow on again

 

we search for light

but there is none

we gasp again for air

we hold our breath

and take a break

and press on in despair

 

and above

the leaders celebrate

recalling days of old

singing songs

of victories won

the stories often told

 

but will our children have a song

will there be air to breathe

will they be able to walk tall

in the carnage we will leave

 

but still above

the leaders revel

and drink and loose the tongue

recalling days of old

and singing songs

of long past victories won

 

of stories often talked about

which will be told, and told again

to drown the stench

of recent days

and the ways of fallen men