World Divides

There is an aftertaste to celebrate

in the swings of my suicide or the lines I will draw by myself

within the grasp, fictitious pasts, and all my doubts

How can you see through the shadows

with the blinding light burning in your eyes

so where will all of you be

when the killing fields are cleared and this world divides

The loss of heart becomes unbearable

and a vanishing point becomes intact

so when a six foot drop is my best

I will expect nothing less than a soldiers death

There is an aftertaste to celebrate

in the swings of suicide or the lines I've drawn

at last for redemption

and finally for my forgiveness

in the end this bitterness bends

simply encased in my withered hands