Maybe,
maybe I should just let you go?
You, who have taken home (shelter) in my mind
You, who have stopped paying your bills.
Your post box is full.
My mind is about to explode
You see, I have found properties of atoms that meet;
Connect –
Then explode.
My mind, my explosion; people –
they meet to explode
Fragments of people the only to survive
Am I nothing but atoms and organs? After my mind produced nuclear power and
BLASTS everywhere.
Blood everywhere. And fragmented bodies.
In 1945, Nagasaki and Fukushima fell.
In 2014, I fell to your feet (and all your other parts).
In 1945 and 2014, bombs were bombs.
People are weapons.
We can’t separate friend from foe,
and we fall to ashes in a ******* hole on the earth’s cold, silent surface.
Shields and swords are cruel words – silence is the first part of death.
But maybe I should let you go?
And what if I can’t.
Will your artificial love in my mind keep pushing me off the rooftop?
“You’ve moved to the top floor?”
“Yes” (So that I can **** myself more easily, from the top of the world)
Maybe I should jump from the church towers.
Would I be mature enough for you?
Flowers are grown, old and beautiful
when we pluck them
- Maybe that’s the truth to me too.
I should open up,
not wither away
I should not be the person I am; or the one I am clinging to
I should trust the right people.
The nuclear clock should stop at 11:58.
These people should be saved.
You could come back to me.
Maybe I should let you go. Maybe I won’t.
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25.01.14 | *Anne H. Bakke
