And there he goes
Back again to war, with
Himself and back to
Where he knows he will
Be too tired to think
About what he thinks
He has to fix, has to heal,
Has to be to right
The wrong-thought life
With its wrong-way dreams
That never turned him in
The right direction, being
Flawed, fundamentally, like they
Told him is a medal that he wears
And wears himself to the ground
While it drags a path in it
Telling people and himself more loudly
"There's nothing wrong with it,"
But he knows there is.
And he sees it in her eyes but
They're not strong enough
To make him stop,
To make him pause,
To make him make a truce,
Find some peace that he craves
More than life,
More than his guilt,
More than her.
