It is sweet and fitting to beg them to stay,
but I abandon my position on the battle field in order to feel the revolution from both sides,
two sides
of the same chess board
of not deserving any diplomacy.
Two sides
of the same coin,
pursuing someone who doesn’t want me,
and being begged to stay.
I’m constantly reflicking the coin off my finger
as if I can get a third, other value.
I’m frantically flipping
as if I can rewrite Boolean logic.
I’m maniacally trying to supply proof that I deserve to have been created
and coming up empty handed.
I wish the meds helped with this, but they don’t.
I take my Effexor with plenty of water,
like they say to,
but it never helps my mouth be any less dry.
I would write poetry to stop the worry
but the worry has made it to where I can’t even write.
I clench my teeth hard to stop the chattering
but there’s still the fact that my lips are starting to quiver.
My hands have been shaking since I was 10 years old
because I know even the dirt is squinting its earthy eyes at me,
confused as it watches me execute myself
in the front and center of the war.