If I must fight a battle
it must be one I should were accolades
from the mind of the wounded.
what have I not seen
or thought of?
where have I not been
with feet or mind?
the walls which lasted too long
crumbled within flimsy moments,
the dead words in the telling
died on tongues of a crooked history.
if I must die fighting
it shouldn’t be in a battle I would stand
in the dock of imagination
asking myself ‘why? ’
07: 40 30/08/’03
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