If She Wins, I Lose Poem by Mason Capman

She encloses my good and frees my bitterness.

She vomits to beauty and indulges in Her self.

She is the cause.

She is the victim.

In chains, She keeps me…me.

What have I become, but that which is what She make me.

And I spill my soul to the wind as She cries back with a frozen answer.

“THEY WILL ONLY FORGET US! ”

I feel Her in my bones.

SHAKE! She makes me. SACRED! I stand.

naked.

vulnerable.

I (wish to,)

accept

my

defeat

and

lay

amongst

fallen

warriors.

Twelve feet below Her grasp.

Elle est gagnante.