Though I walk through the shadowed land,
I hold my head talk,
I remember to smile as my mother always taught,
And to walk with grace, as my father taught,
But I cannot shove out of my head,
The single thought that plagues me,
I know not who I am,
Not truely.
Is it the knives that stab my back?
Or the blood that rushes from the wounds?
Or the live, beating heart,
With a playing dart poking out the side?
Perhaps it’s the tonne of bullets,
That lie in my stomach,
As I think, slowly, painfully,
(There are axes and arrows in my mind)
About the err I’ve made.
I guess I shall never know -
Doomed am I to ride the wave of uncertainty.
I can never know, for I cannot think,
With these mad ravens circling my head,
Waiting for death.
One landed,
And sat and stared,
‘Till my eyes went to dusk,
For I feared to blink.
I trust not these birds of evil.
Even the simplist angel,
My dearest friend,
Seems to not notice
The Raven on her Shoulder…
Nor the bullets in my stomach,
The Axes and Arrows of my head,
or the Knives,
And the trail of blood that follows my path
(Ensuring I don’t get lost along the way).