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The Bloody Clothes of War

I wear the bloody clothes of war
The wounds that I show
Coming from traumas
Concussions that rattle your heart
And never leave your head.

The blood that I oppose
Stemming from the life I missed
The hope I skipped past
The love I never felt.

The wounds that killed me fall deep
Hitting my bones
Some even shattering
Leaving me motionless on the floor.

The tears and blood I cry
Fill up the casket and spill out
Until everyone in the room drowns in them
But I somehow find a way to prevent myself
From showing the crowd that I am dying, not dead.

I wear the bloody clothes of war
War with everything
War with everyone
But also the worst kind of war
War with myself.

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