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53 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
53 lines
1.2 KiB
Text
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Clocktower Blitz
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2022-04-06
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***
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Please, my love, come home unharmed.
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It's been almost a month since I
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found you injured, limping, on a farm
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half-familiar, glowing hearth.
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We've been here before- or, at least, I have,
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wandering in sprawling fields
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trying to find homebound path.
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Because isn't that
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what this is all about?
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Trying to find the way back home
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despite all those who've declared
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themselves roadblocks, obstacles.
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Each of us condemned to roam,
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sometimes aimless, usually on our own,
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no one to ask us how we fare.
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The bloodlust of my youth has faded away.
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I've grown sick of conflict, of battles, of war.
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How can anyone think cold-blooded murder holds glamour?
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I'm sick as an invalid
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two steps in the grave
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of every moment worrying if you're okay.
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"If there was a path
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out of this heartbreak
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without suffering any pain,
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believe me,
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Lethe,
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I'd take it in a single breath."
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I'd rather die
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than live a thousand lives
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safe but absent from your light.
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But there's nothing I can do
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as you ascend the campus clock tower
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with staff in hand,
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ready and prepared to make a last stand.
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"I need you to know I feel the same.
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Truth be told, I always have.
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I've got a bad limp, but if I get my way,
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you won't have to wait
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much longer."
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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