Wartime Stories

As an aside
Let it be known to you
That I don't like you
Or I don't know you
Perhaps I've never met you
But I see you drifting
Drifting anachronously in rain, in shine

As an aside
Let it be thrust upon you
That your will was sabotaged
Or you never realized your self
Perhaps you never had one
But I see you pushing
Pushing your way through with unfounded determination

As an aside
Let your eyes rest upon the scape
Which is not quite deafening
Though a thousand throbbing hearts burst out quietly
After a last shelling or the ensuing palpitations
Laying bare your identities
Identities that were born with you

As an aside 
Let it crush you, the leaden air
Laden with blood. With tears.
But certainly heavy with inertia
As faces fade and rise with the day
And trespass into pandemonium -
Pandemonium that their parallel universe is

And when you chew this
Let me get myself across to you
And let you know that I am dead
And not because you killed me
But because you don't see my person
Because without your self, you push through -
Through bodies floating in the river

And now, to the point.
You are no different
In that you are like the rest of us.
Floating. And conflicted.
In that some day you too will wake up
Hanged. Drawn. And quartered.