Facing the Field of Death
Around that heap of earth I hovered,
Not a drop of tear I shed.
I’ve had them flow at will,
Turning my heart a deep dry well.
I inhaled the fresh smell of earth,
Longed to revel in that existential myth.
I sat on that field of death,
Feeling a strange sense of mirth.
My mind reeling writhing in pain,
Produced nothing more than a thought chain.
Lots of courage to do it,
You don't have it in you to do it.
I stood up to derail the train,
That kept pushing at the back of my head.
Then straight I went on lest I turned to salt.
And all flags and alarms put on halt.
Dreams no more excite me,
And nightmares wilt away from me.
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