And I’m dripping with remorse
Feeling cold, hard hands run over
fibre, gristle and stone.
The kids in front of me
Have no idea who we’re remembering
They are dripping with fear,
Immersed by hatred, society has set them free
It frankly doesn’t care
and where do they find themselves?
Back in prison, on top of a hill.
I don’t know why I can’t contain.
The older I grow and with every success
I plunge myself deeper, into pity and regret,
rejecting all around me.
So pale and steeped in fear
Drowning myself in nonchalance
Half-alive in devil may care.
I worry now because I am struggling for an excuse.
Further away from myself than I have been
in quite some time.
Perhaps a little minor tragedy helps
An excuse to drip, drip, drip.
When everything’s fine I just feel myself slip
Further and further away,
You’re shouting at me to stay, but I don’t know how.
Spiralling out of control
In a circus of whiskey and moans
So flippant with these oaths we made and
Violently critical of the mistakes you make.
So my hope has faded
Now the kids don’t know
What to remember
Or even how to remember.
Perhaps it’s all the same.
Should I host my own remembrance day?
For the family that went away
No that doesn’t sound right.
There is still a small glow, flashing far away,
Where I sit and wallow every day,
Dripping and bleeding
My past consistently exceeding
My hope for my future,
In every single way.
My loved ones can’t talk to me
about what you have done, Celean.
The way you live your life, quite obviously
Because I’m the obvious one,
To the dense and obscene.
I was always easily accused.
I got the convictions and scars to prove
that I was really down there.
But my borrellish style and intense green eyes
Got me through.
Not to mention, my hatred for you.
They can’t understand why you left me here.
I am amazed at your sickening indifference.
And while I wither today, dreaming of a life gone astray
I wish for a wind of change.
That can blow through my putrid piety
My longing for a life that was fine
There were three of us, who could have made things right
You never wanted to put up a fight.
But you left all the rest of us not knowing
Your vile plans, your will to usurp.
Lost were the good deeds before you
and Mum’s desire for a love that could work.
So I will remember this Sunday
The ones who died for my country,
The ones who were denied the ability to fulfil
Their dreams, their love, their ambitions,
Just like me.