Yet again, we find ourselves
on this battlefield of souls,
spirits, renewed by sun and rest,
pushed out through our ears
to make room for
formulas and quotes
that bounce off our brains and get
stuck in our earwax,
wearing war masks of deception,
colours and clothes that help us
camouflage, to keep us safe
from each other.
Yet again in these halls, these rooms,
wall wall wall wall
ceiling.
corridors and staircases
walking and sitting and walking and sitting
and listening and listening!
*because we have to*
so long that we begin to think we care,
so long that staring at the blackboard
begins to seem more important than
dreaming out the window,
until spring arrives again
three quarters of a year later.
Yet again on this battlefield of souls;
do not lose yourself so.
Author notes
It's pretty poor poetry. I'm just trying to get stuff down on paper these days, so please don't mind!
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Oh, and like these lines too.
"*because we have to*
so long that we begin to think we care" -
I can see a bit of what you mean by getting stuff down on paper, but I also like the ending:
"so long that staring at the blackboard
begins to seem more important than
dreaming out the window,
until spring arrives again
three quarters of a year later.
Yet again on this battlefield of souls;
do not lose yourself so."
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