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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
6.5.ii5

Submitted: December 09, 2012

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Submitted: December 09, 2012

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What kind of man am I?
To drink stale water and rebuild my circles
No man at all,
In the chemistry of gravel
Crunching pain shook me awake,
Distorted ventricles
The colors of my tragic flag, they melted into a crime scene
Its strict borders were rendered, and liquefied accordingly
White turned putrid yellow, red a sickly orange,
Blue darkened as the night rolled by
Lifted through the stratospheres of a god,
My country will live again, in the clouds
 
Who was I to hear? 
Some things are never meant to be heard
In this world, and twelve others
As we come to know, secrets travel at Godspeed
 
Now you have me beat,
Now I’m out of options, it would seem
Though my actions were forceful, like I had been in a dream,
The words are irrevocable now, much like my past
Much like other things that I cannot remember,
Refuse to remember,
I never took defeat well
Before that, I treated it like folklore
In which I was a hero, I was anything,
I was the operator, the creator, the savior, the hope
I think of these things well after midnight,
Only then do I see
When I finally have you beat
It will be a glitch in the timeline,
A rip in the fabric
Something impossible, but forced to happen
The sky will bleed with victory
And the gods will be baffled
You never took defeat well,
And you never rose again
 


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