I love the repetition in this poem. Great poetry.

So Much Damage

a tortured existence
but without pain
just mental daggers
in the brain
just thorns, just horns,
spades digging
moving dirt for
charges rigging

nerves of still
of silent will
the inner scream
muffled with skill
such experience
so professional
mechanics of which

a quickened step
towards death
towards death
a swiftened pace
now out
of breath
but it’s a loop
it’s a loop
for ive been
all this time
it could only be
all this time
it was always me

all the time
it was me

sitting still

without will

curse this game
curse this game
and from whence
it came

-m.p. 07/15/2016

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