Waste,
is all effort denied.
It clasps you, at your base.
Shame, lives here,
Nothing. To erase.

Madness,
is to not find yourself,
once you've searched eternities.
Amongst the blades of grass,
where the blood fell.

Whether you walk,
Whether you run,
Whether your fingers will it so.
To be undone,
To lose,
To go.

You cannot outrun, what followed you here.
You've held the rope too tightly,
Don't blame the blunt knife.
For what you'd never sever.

Attempts,
are those of waste,
as the anxious heart, keeps it laced.
It knows your face, it made it.
Hurt,
is the pain you make it,
Dragged here. In this place. To shake it.
safe to do so,
to let it go,
now.
you are one.

Cut off this limb
            you
               never  
                  needed,
but had tied, to the soles of your feet.

I don't want to shoot,
I don't want to win
I don't want to 'fight' the way we were trained,
I'll fight with my heart and a can of white paint.

Wounded flags fatefully fall.
Under the spell your command.
But watch me you will, I'll make them true,
Watch me you will, as I make them free.
We don't belong to you.

I'll brush them clean, with the truth of our tears,
Unwilling participants of the sick game,
We never wanted to play.

I don't want to shoot,
I don't want to win
I don't want to 'fight' the way we were trained,
I'll fight with my heart and not with your aims.
I'll fight for us all,
For we all die the same.