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For All of My Mistakes, For All of My Anger
In a last ditch effort
We swing out swords;
We string our bows.
All the unholiness unfolds
And our mouths,
Like smoldering craters,
Puke up stench and smoke.
We say nothing of use;
Nothing is good or nice or true.
It is all rotten and filthy
And full of cowardice -
Hollow words.
Yet we continue.
We continue to talk and talk
Until our emotions induce tears,
And even though we're screaming
Into someone else's face,
We are only pointing out our own faults.
Because we are weak.
Because we need a defense.
Because we are hurt and sad and hopeless.
Because we need and easy outlet.
Yet the battle rages on.
