Flight of War

I am not this empty container save
for a few glib, throwaway lines
paraded about both day and night.
Perfect no not ever - yet
ineffectual in every way
for exchanging lifeless candour.

You – once cried for me before
teaching me how to fly
my arms flung wide
yet trapped in these pockets
of man's limited horizons.

Me – well
my need to survive
smirks back at me, through weary
resentful war-torn lips.
I should go forward, foot
following foot and yet here is
where I intend to remain.
Lost always -
NEVER
to be yours - or mine again
residing here, below what has become
this relentless way of ending human

Life…