The Defeated

I feel numb.          
         Totally numb.                  
                      As I hum the anthem                               
                                            of my own madness,                       
                           and I walk, dumbfounded,                             
                                    to the beat of my own drum.                   

                    “I succumb.”                  
                    “I succumb.”    

My war has finally come                           
                                        to an end.   
And I do not care                
                     what will be done to me now.                
                     No. I do not care what will be done.                     
                            I do not care what will be done.        

I am tired.       
I am thirsty.       
I am lonely.       
I am done.                    
                    “I succumb.”                     
                    “I succumb.”