The Hero Dies In The End

Replicate

8-5-22

Welcome to the shitshow;
the world is a zoo.
I greet you with the mic check
         one-two one-two
just to see who's listening
and who's being listened to.
I never bore a child;
I respect you if you did
         or didn't.
         It's not my place.
I stared death in the eye
and kicked it in the phases
         of the face,
         of the tail,
         of its tumultuous pace.
I don't smile much but I don't need to.
Everything you do has been done before;
         you're the read-through.
Panic is my middle name;
         attack is my last.
I am apparently not a parent
         and I'm happy that you asked.
I don't suffer discomfort gladly
         and I'd never let it pass
on to another one,
         a daughter or a shining sun.
I'd be something of a masochist;
         a schism. Table for one.
I can only function as a mouth.
I'm not a spout or a demon
         ready to sprout.
You can fight the battle and
         send your kids to war.
I will not be replicated
to duplicate the chore
of whatever we're mad about
         today and forever more.