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i am alone in my suffering.
this war, i have called upon my self.
my body, a stygian battleground.
the shots have been fired,
my skin is torched and scratched,
i am bleeding inside.
my mind is - wasting away,
it's the first to -- go.
i tear and rip until all my pieces fall to the ground.
no one is there to pick them up.
i shove my being into the trash,
and i ignite it.
the torrid heat burns my heart,
and prejudice swelters in the air.
i inhale and it pollutes me.
my veins turn to ash.
revulsion overwhelms the demons within me,
and they soar like birds till i am empty.
i - am -- nothing.
bombs outside flutter, and plummet like hail.
they are the last i see in the war,
this war, i have called upon myself.
the soldiers march and march and march
and never come back,
but my cheeks are not burned by tears.
the heart within me is not burdened with a beat.
the lucidity of my image is fogged,
the sanctity of my soul, violated,
and this war--
this war, i have called upon myself,