Lying on the bed I drew the curtains close,
14 days in and I drank my poison all alone,
Like prison, but like hell in this hellhouse,
Like "well you can't do anything, can you now?"
And I didn't trust him freely,
He poured the diesel in the fire,
And I put the matches to the wire,
Maybe he's just stupid for a guard,
Or maybe mines to opaque to not send off their radars,
I forleaped my escape in a choir as he was playing with fire,
And I ran to the love,
To the hatred,
To the hope,
And to all the mistresses of the men in war,
Those who couldn't survive this great war,
And I stumbled in my brain,
That doesn't happen that often,
Cause maybe it's the past that's talking,
Screaming from the crypt,
Hitting me note by note,
With a blunt and a lighter to my imaginative fighter,
"And it's telling me to punish you, for things... You never did..."
But I did,
And we had to hide in the corner of every room,
Because the burners lit a fire that never smit,
So I justified it,
Between that bloodsheded, crimson clovered,
The bombs sprung to us a little closer,
But I vowed not to fight anymore, once we survived this great war,
And I kept dancing in the rain,
Like a manic, crazy brain,
Hunted down their castles,
Broke them from bone to bone,
Searched them from grain to grain,
For you
YOU ARE READING
Greatly Indefinite
Historical FictionIcarus is a man of passion, love, duty and a sense of belonging and Mio was his lover. In a world filled with hatred, self-loathing, mechanical and brutal men and women who would execute you for being yourself and loving who you want to, Mio seeks j...
