Maybe they've written you off, locked you away,

Locked you out, locked you down,

Given you no opportunity to show you were better,

Taken away any chance to illuminate.


There were the challenges you were drawn to,

That kept you awake at night, trompsing through

Wreckage, ruin, filth and heartbreak––

The hits that felt like kisses,

The kisses that felt like apocalypse.


The lights disappear, the screams of death go unheeded.

The autopilot is nonfunctional.

The real war never gets into the books.



1 May 2012



Spoken word version from Commune, copyright © 2013 by Jim Cohn.