i wish there was a shot i could regret.

A lost battle is a battle one thinks one has lost.

- Jean-Paul Satre

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What if one day I get tired of fighting myself.

With my bruised esteem,

shrunken pride,

and yet still with a slight glimmer of hope,

a will to live.

What if one day I get tired,

yet I'm not ready to die.

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The paintbrush was dipped into
blue paint,
red paint,
green paint,
yellow paint,
black paint.

The rope was slowly painted with the many colours.
It looked like a beautiful mess.

The rope was tied into a knot,
a noose, in fact.

What if the colours were all significant,
what if the rope and the noose was all too significant.

What exactly was significant?
What exactly was significant enough to start a war?
What exactly was significant enough to end it?
What exactly was significant enough to be significant?




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What if I'm fighting without understanding why?
What if I'm fighting because I love it?
What if I'm fighting because I have to?
What if I'm fighting because I just can't quit?

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And if I lose myself, will you find me?

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M.

But there isn't.