Shells from the past have slipped

through the holes that litter

the continent of my body.

And i wonder

if you would know my face,

the way it is,

now ravaged from the paranoia

that was left over your conditioned evolution.



Napalm tastes complacently bitter when

forcefed upon my glittering tongue,

and after the fury subsided i lay broken

and more arid than Beirut,

yet my soul was soaked with nostalgia.



You tempered me as your shield,

Because you were the sword,

and we were living

in a world full of sticks and stones.

in that once upon a time,

we could only be defeated by ourselves,

and we were bred to win.



If history repeats itself,

you and i should not be any different.



The ashes of my right hand

remind me of what i've become,

and flesh blood and bone remind me

of all i have left.

These piercings in my body

swell and shake with the thought

that you'd fear me when you saw

the beating that you've dealt,

and thought of what i could've done in return.

after all, i am still alive.



Valor died with romance due to shame,

i suppose there never was love,

and after everything,

i still bleed red at your feet

But you just step over the puddles

fearing it has soiled the treasures

you have sown.



I could tell you now to look in my eyes

Past the suffering density

Afflicting my hope i still foolishly hold onto,

look And maybe you would see

there was a chance.



But if history repeats itself

You and i will not be any different.

03/28/2006

Author's Note: Amrich/Sword collab

Posted on 03/28/2006
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Michael