Mercy

 

 

     It isn’t just paranoia,

It becomes more than that the moment

Your ravings and ramblings become true

And it’s so powerful,

     So powerful the term intuition

Be only a slight at what it is,

For it is to many

A cliché written by others

With a hint of the macabre,

     For the struggle for recognition

For what you know - be more

Than fiction can end in murder,

     And I am ill with it made

More ferocious by ‘others’ glee

And it isn’t love that shields the sufferer

But only his or her understanding

That a game is at play and you’re the

Unwitting joker,

     The one they are laughing at

And dehumanizing as they try outwit

Your existence,

 

     This is life for more and more

People each year as intellect

And intelligence reveals itself

To prisoners of thought,

     Prisoners of a system

You cannot comprehend,

And there be no safety,

No place to run, or hide,

Or find the sanctuary you deserve,

     Just a place of sorrow to dwell,

Where suicide be the only

Way to express the freedoms

Denied,

 

     Many a Veteran know

Of what I write,

But powerless we remain,

Our only hope, be in

A society that could develop

Compassion that knows,

Our foresight be one

Of truth – that power

Refuses to acknowledge,

Where blame remains upon

Each casualty;

     Wandering in innocence

Upon a void of hate.

 

Michael J Waite 28th of September 2015.