the medals on my chest weigh heavy
they drag me down
gold is hard to carry
when the glimmer gets old

Feelings left reeling by simple words peeling
Back the cracked and dried scab of love's lack.

Yes I’m doing well.
But I miss you like a cave misses the sun.
I wish I had the courage to tell you.

The wisdom of age is caged
By rage
By pages staged in cultural serfdom.

The youthful burnt by truth's
Supernova
Of time and its rotten fruit,
wisdom, hah

So you find me between
The rage and the explosion.
Gritting teeth beneath pain's expressed grief.