Severed

You are

The severed limb

That lies forgotten on the arena.

With strained voice

I struggle to sing above the sound

Of your phantom pulse.

Soldiers

We were soldiers

Fighting our fathers’ war

For an antiquated honor

And the medal of public opinion.

Captured by the adversary,

We tried to abscond

The yoke of tradition,

But he fell to the enemy

And I left him down.

I did not look back

But still I turn to salt.