Facing the Field of Death

Facing the Field of Death

Around that heap of earth I hovered,
Not a drop of tear I shed.
I’ve had them flow at will,
Turning my heart a deep dry well.

I inhaled the fresh smell of earth,
Longed to revel in that existential myth.
I sat on that field of death,
Feeling a strange sense of mirth.

My mind reeling writhing in pain,
Produced nothing more than a thought chain.
Lots of courage to do it,
You don't have it in you to do it.

I stood up to derail the train,
That kept pushing at the back of my head.
Then straight I went on lest I turned to salt.
And all flags and alarms put on halt.

Dreams no more excite me,
And nightmares wilt away from me.