A Dirge for Yesterday

We came back home

covered in delusional, decorated giggles

boastful and sententious,

seeking your approval. For

our plastic bones crumpling like a piece of bad script

the skeleton of our hope would founder slightly

toward an old shrine that had metamorphosed. Empty

trapeze of our conquests planted doubts on our sanity

but we continue to gaze upward still

not stiffened by the scent of death far away

not flustered by the broken footprints of our tired spirits

we stared deeper into the void

the wide eyes of our wooden gods not blinking

we came back to the night … we came back home

waiting for the final verse.

We felt abandoned by the fight—

the war

our dreams

the burden of listening

the deception of peace;

nothing to relish

nothing to make our black blood boil,

we felt betrayed by your honesty

your thirst for followership

your record for adventure … then

you upped the game

you bent the rule

you called us “human”

you erred, you goofed

for always we had enjoyed being ghosts.

We found the ropes and chains and shackles

they spoke a new language

the language we no longer understood. They

adorned a new look

the look we no longer recognized;

our souls would race after our masters’ dreams

our bodies bob for his lust, as

we cringed beneath the beloved whip. Scared

of the roaring thunderstorm, and

hallucinated by illusion of freedom

our hunger for yesterday grew sharper than before

we felt victory creep through our veins,

for the wars and battles we lost

we came back home.