You lay in the battlefield of a Great War
Again and again
Reintroducing yourself as the rubble leaves scars on your cheeks
As your palms splinter and cleave
Those you have lost
Those who have lost you
There's snow piling on your lashes like powdered sugar
It is something you've written with a song in mind
A testimony, A prophecy
But if you were to squeeze your black eyes open
You'd see your red door, tire swing and toy box