Mansion of the Pacifist

I wrote this poem to try and describe how it feels to have a dissociative disorder.

Behold the mansion of the pacifist.

As empires scream he carves its obelisk

From dirt and ash to gold -- the alchemist.

Beyond its walls there coils a basilisk 

So stay and numb your mind in crystal streams

While bloodstains bloom amongst the tamarisk.

Forget yourself within its stained-glass dreams

Sip liquid moonlight in its gilded spire

And watch the titans topple their regimes.

Outside they cut their teeth to feed the fire

Each spark of flint on flint a catalyst

But here you gorge on this great rectifier

The magnum opus of a strategist 

Behold the mansion of the pacifist.

Author's Note

Any constructive criticism welcome <3