Faithless Woman

My gory battlefields do not hold any of my enemies –

There are mirrors upon mirrors as far as the eye can see.

There are storms in my pockets, wind-chimes in my lungs,

And a screeching thought inside me yelling “kill the young”.

These old dreams that I exhale deflate like balloons.

My wounds ache, and I wait for my fate and its goons.

I wish the fading reflections painted my face clearer,

I wish I looked like a builder, not a wrecker and a tearer.

These battlefields chew my weak character like gum,

And every weapon I use turns out to be a water gun.

Amidst this chaos and my own invincible self-envy,

I cry out one last time, begging for the sky to help me.

-Jackie