I Am Thankful for War

There’s a game I like to play,

Where I take everything I ever did or say,

Magnify it, make it really clear,

Light a candle, close my eyes- boom!  

That is when the apparatuses appear.

They are kind.

They are prodigious.

They are spellbinding.

They are religious.

So forgive me, for I became the medium,

Performed the séance for so many nights,

Realized that those parts of me were quite tedium,

Dear reader, hold my hand and meet my wights.

The kind one,

Quite compassionate to a fault – 

She unflinchingly became an amateur,

To be a placater is to be a mockery,

Her future would lead a halt

Acquaintances only perceived her as a caricature.

The prodigious one,

I’m sure she created wondrous worlds in her mind,

Although I ache for her inside,

For she spent far too much time overanalyzing,

Books, media, religion, the earth, and all of mankind,

To create her own discovery, 

To find her own voice,

For it was no one but hers to find. 

The spellbind one,

A wand made of bones,

Casted onto lovers who love to leave,

She never wanted to be alone,

I grieve her like I do my faith,

She didn’t believe,

After someone leaves I’ll see myself to the mirror,

All I see is a ghostly wraith.

The religious one,

Her god was not limitless,

But she followed His orders,

Like she would a husband,

Burning in her soul for how He ignored her,

Everyday she gets to sleep next to the demon she summoned.

The past is my presence,

Return your attention to the present,

And be kind as you say goodbye, 

As you know they are my very essence.

Spirits of myself whisper the harsh reminders,

They’re embarrassed I needed a viewfinder,

I blow out my candles and bid a good-bye,

Those itty-bitty ghosts of me can never truly die,

I stand alongside my past,

As I am the Great Divide.