These toes by which my feet were led,
to cross into the zone though the light was red.
These feet by which my body was lured,
to an ill of the soul that’s rarely cured.

This body that led my mind
to that which captured my heart and in its will entwined.
This mind that led my eyes to see,
that which is only clear to it and me.
This eye that led my hand to feel,
and comfort myself that it was real.

That feel that prompted my lips to move and utter,
the depths of my thoughts amidst muffled stutter.
This speech that led my ear to hear,
then put into clarity that which was not clear.

That ear that led my mind to believe,
that I should peruse that which to others is make believe.
That hustle for the make believe to be believable,
the constant belief that I was indecievable,

the realization that all my war stories,
were renditions of the many battles between my soul and my memories…

© jemedari