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.”