Musings

Still Life

Who am i
a one-legged soldier drafted for war
facing bullets without needing worn-out sympathy
eyes shut waiting for sweet release

Where am i
alone in an untrodden forest
drawn to dreams of rabbitholes that lead nowhere
waking up trapped in skin
that sags from pretending

What am i
just a pebble that makes no ripples
when sacrificed to the pond
or a twig that makes no sound
when crushed under a weary foot

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