Unhooked

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Lament the fallen heroes of lives you’ve never lived before…

A would-be martyr, scorned by causes that won’t let you in the door.

Laugh at the widow humming the tune her husband sang at night,

Pray for peace, then curse the gods for not letting you join the fight.



The wounded gather each morning to tell their stories once again,

Their numbers grow each time, the lineup will never end.

The broken and misguided, the lost and never found,

You are drawn into their swelling ranks, shared misery abounds.



You know you don’t belong there though, it’s not your type of place.

Feign all the pain you want to, but it’s just for social grace.

Act the part and maybe you too will start to feel the same,

But don’t catch yourself and realize you just playing in their game.



Elba or St. Helena? Circumstances often change.

Tell the merchant you won’t need his pain, the blame’s been rearranged. .

Wash it out with the colors bleeding from the wounds that you’ve earned,

Paint their impressions with your stigma, and leave the stain there to burn.



You’re a shepherd herding scapegoats, built on hills of remorse,

Apologizing to all who hear, in valleys emptied out by choice.

Sacrificial lambs, slaughtered at the altar of convenient of gods.

Bitter tasting is the meat… guilt-diluted flesh tastes rather odd.



That grey quilted tapestry you knit with way too much ease…

The edges are fraying, and the threads show you’re just a tease.

The warmth drains though the openings, the warmth is ice cold…

But cover yourself with it anyway; the illusion of love is gold.



Follow me into unknown dreams while the sun cleanses you awake.

Pay just a little more, and then dig deeper for karma’s sake.

Roads are paved to be travelled, but yours lies untouched and pure.

Glide your way to remorse, but go quickly... the devil has his lure.



Promise nothing and never lie, better you make me guess

I’ll write my own storyline, following the silhouette of your dress

Carved out memories that were seldom, if ever, real.

Drink the drink of illusion until closing time draws near.



Then come into the world new born and start what did not begin

Let yourself live finally, it is time for you to win

The chains can melt from your wrists like chocolate in the sun

Taste the freedom you give yourself, declare the past over and done.



The prison walls you built reach farther up than you can see,

But they’re made of air and misconception, from wood of hollow trees.

Push the demons over, exhale and watch as they run away,

It is only shame and fear that compels them to laugh and to stay.



Now tell me, can you feel that new pulse coursing through your veins?

Can you get enough of life when there is more than just the pain?

All those mistakes are history, lies believed before you knew,

That past days sleep in their graves, and have no hold on you.

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Comments 6 comments

Paradise7 profile image

Paradise7 5 years ago from Upstate New York

Not sure what to make of it, but I THINK it's very much anti-war, from a soldier or veteran's point of view. Of course, I could be entirely mistaken.


CMHypno profile image

CMHypno 5 years ago from Other Side of the Sun

Very appropriate so close to Remembrance Day, Greek One


K9keystrokes profile image

K9keystrokes 5 years ago from Northern, California

Wow. This should be posted where anyone suffering from PTSD can find it. Deep, very deep.


rebekahELLE profile image

rebekahELLE 5 years ago from Tampa Bay

Powerful writing, Greek. Beautiful, the last line triumphs.


Greek One profile image

Greek One 5 years ago Author

thanks RebekahElle.. i did think this one was my best entry


tsmog profile image

tsmog 5 years ago from Escondido, CA

The words presented speak more than I can imagine. Simply, thank you for sharing. I appreciate the warmth of the outstretched rays of the sun painted within these words - well done, Greek One.

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