proper adder
There’s a war inside me,
Not fought with guns, but with grief,
Where my mind drops bombs of logic
And my heart bleeds disbelief.
Every thought—a warning siren,
Every feeling—civil unrest.
They promised peace in healing,
But silence is what I get best.
My brain builds bunkers made of doubt,
Steel-reinforced with shame,
Calculating reasons to surrender,
Assigning numbers to the blame.
Meanwhile, my heart digs trenches,
Bare hands in broken ground,
Planting hopes like landmines
That detonate without a sound.
Mushroom clouds of memories rise,
Scorching skies once calm and kind.
It’s radiation in my bloodstream—
This fallout between heart and mind.
The generals? Trauma and regret.
The soldiers? Every sleepless night.
My tears are chemical weapons,
And my smile? Just staged despite.
I hear them argue in static—
“Give up,” one whispers. “Hold on,” the other.
But the ceasefires never last,
And they keep turning on each other.
I’m a country torn in half,
Borders lined with fear and flame.
A body caught in no-man’s-land,
With no flag, no face, no name.
Sometimes I wonder who will win—
Will reason raze what love defends?
Or will the heart go nuclear first,
And bring this war to bitter end?
But I’m still here, half-alive,
Breathing smoke, bruised by despair,
A witness to my private war
Where no side ever fights fair.
rustic granite