Soldier

You are the black cat sat on my lawn,

Contorted as of the nature of your feline shape.

I am your prey.

You are the bird chirping at my window.

You are the coffee stains on my carpet.

You are familial.

Mould grew from your presence,

Rotted away my sturdy frameworks.

Devoured what remained.

You are the spectre of my haunted house.

You are the monster hiding under my bed.

You are omnipresent.

Hands I’d welcomed had clawed into my heart,

My soul spilling, spooling, intertwined with yours.

You made no effort to clean up your mess.

And so I doused the tragedy in me,

With enough water to fill up the Clyde,

To be washed clean of you.

And so I shut the door on you,

Your clumsy fingers were wedged, bleeding.

Entangled in its skeleton.

But when I released it to end your

Suffering, I was met with an absence.

You were not there.

Embarking on a journey every young man must take,

In your nobel pilgrimage in the search to be satisfied

You leave a grotesque trail.

My wounded soldier, far from your glory that transcended you,

Who made the real sacrifice?

For it was my blood that soaked the land.

Conscientious comrades who were relieved before you

Perceive you as their martyr.

How foolish.

I held requiem in your honour,

An open casket crafted from Sequoioideae

For I am your Bonnie.

You have become mutilated beyond recognition,

My sweet John Doe.

Who are you?

I am the white mouse hiding in the grass,

As delicate and as small as you made me.

I am unable to escape you.