L(ight) weight
 

it was stated once
that a disease has no eyes
it picks and chooses with no thought. Just like you, and your
whole motif.

Theyd throw you like a pig at a troft,
where you'd eat the banquet of the swine
that you so wholly represented, with your
leather boots, made from your brothers and sisters.

It was the time of laughter for the few, the suffering for the rest.
Theres so little to do.
so little to see.

I wished that life could be more than it seemed
and my stomach strained into that oh so familiar
contortion, that was either worry, or the knowledge that
nothing really mattered.

the march of you
the march of me
they both have the same ending
in a fleeting motion the light ends.
and you a i would meet in the dirt.