One, two, three

I count the tally marks
Lining my arm

Four, five, six

They're swollen,
Matching my eyelids

Seven, eight, nine

I'm losing sleep
And I'm losing places
To make my mark

Ten, eleven, twelve

I'm getting worse,
Much worse

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

I could go on
Until maybe
One-hundred

But I wouldn't want to
Bore you

With the scars lining
My battlefield
As I fight this
Never ending
War.

-e.w.