The Blue.

City will ask me
for more than my flesh and bones.
Rats sneak into my marrow.
They were asked by godly forces
to bite it, change it, build a monument
to the lost battles.

Every chime of the city church
is surrender.
Someone will forget my verses
before getting shot in the chest.

But everything is reverse.
City kills me, but brings me to life.
Rats scratch, but kiss muy skin.
Monuments are risen, then are fallen
by the ghosts of underrated poets.

City, why am I staying?
Lonely will defeat me for your design.
This plague of never-ending nights
will destroy the springs in my reveries.
Why am I staying?

The news says we bring curses.
The news says we are affliction.
We, the blue, are the crippled.

But everything is reverse.
Tomorrow, I'll be dancing
over my own grave.