The Defeated

I feel numb.           

         Totally numb.                   

                      As I hum the anthem                                

                                            of my own madness,                        

                           and I walk, dumbfounded,                              

                                    to the beat of my own drum.                    

                    “I succumb.”                   

                    “I succumb.”    

My war has finally come                           

                                        to an end.   

And I do not care                 

                     what will be done to me now.                 

                     No. I do not care what will be done.                     

                            I do not care what will be done.         

I am tired.       

I am thirsty.       

I am lonely.       

I am done.                     

                    “I succumb.”                      

                    “I succumb.”