We are in a state of war, my friend

The trees are turning red

My mind are soldiers preparing for death

Their families, distraught, words left unsaid.

I'm in a state of war, my friend

I cannot keep on fighting till the end

The creatures in my head play jumbled words;

Not a soldier in my genes,

It's my reflection commanding enemies

Prepare for death;

I have given up my home,

Unto heaven, my martyred self.

Reach toward the light..
It kills. Little wings told me so.
Dead moths inside my lampshade
Made me aware that that's
where moths go to die.
And what of Angel's?
Do they not fly toward the Light?