Death or glory
Or none of the above?
Is a world with more than
two choices a luxury?
I've had enough!
Wish it was that easy.
You see, I fell in love
with Liberty, when
she was walking a barricade.
Sublimely shameless
in rags and showing a breast.
Lover like I was looking
into her eyes so hard,
I didn't see what she had
embroidered on her flag.
It was unavoidable.
I am Revolution's bastard child
We do not get eaten.
We are left to rot or grow dry and bitter
in our old age.
Or learn to love the cage.
We decorate in prettily
With bits of dreams and industry
And make a secret space
to bury all the rage.
No longer angry, just strange.
Or maybe strangers at the party.
So I kiss Liberty goodbye.
Salute the heroes and leave the fight.
With questions on my mind:
Whose death? Whose glory ?
What to do about Lib,
when you cannot stay and
you would rather not leave?
You know all that break up stuff...
And by the way, how does one live
with choosing none of the above?
