MY BODY WOUNDED - LEGACY

I came! I lived! Did not prevail…

Considered it as nature's fare.

And for some bread I queued up, frail,

and meekly waited for my share.

For, everyone's allotted wins. And victors

- they are not robust. They're here until

their faulty genes translate them into

sturdy dust. But victories are sometimes

rare. Instead there's love, a package

dwindled, some firewood to keep the

flare;

live just as long as there is kindling.

I'm given sky that's mostly blue, to

remind me dreaming's banned,

when only soil I step onto;

so I'll remember where I stand. If

I should happen to be sleeping,

they wake me up, such heresy,

with bloody wounds my body sweeping…

I'll take them as my legacy.