I'm sitting long ways on a old wooden porch swing with rusty chains,
carful not to get a splinter.
The swing looks like it hasn't been sat on in years or maybe days; I can't tell.
My grandparents live in the valley,
and here, in the north, the wind blows cool.
Although I'm shivering in the summer,
I refuse to go inside because Im in love with the way the air rocks me gently.
I feel the vibrations flowing under and over me and tears threaten my eyes.
Like a solider, I have two options; to kill or to be killed.
I could kill and leave behind tainted blood,
or let the swing crash down on me.
I'm living in this battlefield of life and so far I'm winning,
so tainted blood I'm leaving.
Why would I want to give up and come crashing down when
life has made me realize I can continue to breathe,
despite the ropes wrapped around my throat?
I'll suffocate my demons with each breath of fresh oxygen I take and
when I go back home to the southern flat lands,
my demons will be left dead in the valley.
