war

I’m not holy
I’m imperfection incarnate
survival is a fight
not a fairytale, in this life
we’re kicked, punched, beaten
only some of us find the strength
to smile through the bloody, sweaty,
bruised, and disgustingly beautiful,
unholy mess of mortality
our legacy is in our scars
the welts on this ebony skin
brand us unmistakably human
so busy wrestling one another
when the real opponent is time
sands falling through the glass
my brother, don’t you see the lie
we don’t come out of this alive
so, what is your why?

Photo provided by: unsplash-logoUroš Jovičić

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