We sat in the vile that was the city, our eyes closed to the heated words of damn nation, going here, there and everywhere.

Soldiers slept forever in graves, their souls restless on battlefields marching ever forward, guns held high against a foe not there.

Where was the sweet wine promised them from grapes harvested that day, misery in vain?

Or was it vein?

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I did not know where the reaper was, lost someplace in time and space, drinking champagne, tired of the pain.

I sat on the gravel on the side of the road, Fort something, in a city made famous by some movie in 1948, one war had ended, another was just beginning.

I cried there, my love rejecting me in a harsh way, she died there, overdosed on something.

Hip skip, generation lost in space, call the police, there has been a homicide, questioned?

Harry was angry, lost, trying to find his life in the scheme of things, depression ruining his mind, the wind caressing his skin in the middle of a suicide.

He left the world two days later, stranded in some hospital bed, the medics calming his blood but his mind was gone already.

There I was on the side of the road, trying to figure it all out, lost someplace, trapped inside my own mind, realizing none of it mattered, what was the line?

I stood and continued my journey, my life, slowly at first, a broken spirit, but still breathing, the demons along with the angels still following me.

Did it matter at all?

When I leave this road, this life, will I be remembered for anything?

My mind is drifting outside of my body, somewhere else, rather than here in this place, it sees the sun, the world from space, it all looks peaceful…

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