Unnecessary soldier

Sorry for the way I breathe;

I’m not an escape artist

(binding me in ropes and cloth

will hold me down helpless).

I’m not without my history

and come fighting a battle;

it’s been fought on more fronts

than there are buttons on your shirt.

 

My sphere is in broken parts.

I break against that traffic jam

of rocks built into a bottleneck

where you keep your emotions safe and tight.

Armaments, crenellations,

the tongues that are your weapons of war:

I’m still a wave washing over,

w(h)etting but not affecting you.

 

There are strings that I will never touch

because you hold me back

from you at your distant gatehouse

by dark-masked warriors with blackened swords.

I won’t reach the keep. It’s yours;

we don’t want me to be a guest again.

You’re not sorry to throw my face away

and forget that I existed.

Reviews

[HB]

Fantastic imagery. Great wording. Thanks.