After all.

After all

“Who am I, who am I?”

I find myself pleading to the abyss.

 

The soldier,

the rock,

the piece that fits all.

So stand tall;

stand proud,

you are the one who will tell

The worst,

 the best,

the hated,

 the loved,

Each sentence that destroys the constructed

than reverses. 

 

Though acid slides down the surface

And leaves a trail of

Burning skin

Though fire spreads

And the combusted matter

Produces that pungent smell

Of hot metal,

 

I am, after all,

The soldier,

The rock,

The piece that fits all.

- J.