march on little soldiers

you can have my rations
my alcohol hidden in the water bottle i carry
my gun
my shoes
and my clothes

i wish to die possessionless and alone

just as i was alive

in death i will not be obligated to march
nor stand at attention
not staring into the sun's bright glare
across the mountains and buildings

i will never again be forced to stand straight
when i just want to sit

never be forced to forego my rest
for the sake of experiencing the night

walking through the gauntlet of sleepless business women and men
marching through bullets piercing my persona
of mistrust and betrayal

no longer will i sleep awake
soullessly walk

march on little soldiers

and fulfill your destiny without me

i am my solitary manifestation of insecurity.

every moment that passes that I am unguarded by my own built defense mechanisms i cringe due to the exposure

i am simply everything i'm not

i am my sense of overwhelming innocence
i am my fake sense of childhood

i am closeted
i am scared
i am lonely
it's my fault

i am a sleeping dormant adult
and no one at all

i am the insomniac without a cause
and a dream without a mind

i am my overwhelming sense of boredom with the world
with myself
with everything and everyone

so predictably softly hard
i'm not

me? i'm not

i'll be a child all my life
suppose i'm doomed to it after all
predestined by whatever in my life
the root causes not significant enough to matter