I write sins, not tragedies

Sleep well beast

I won’t remember you by anger.
I promise.
I could, but I don’t want to.
There was a lot of shooting.
None of it straight.
And none with mercy.

Only confetti.
Like a fucking party where I drink too much and drunk dial you just to say
“Hey…are you awake?”
Well… tonight ain’t a party, but I’ll pour myself a drink.
Or two.

Headache will be the least of my problems tomorrow.
There’s a pill for that, but there isn’t one for absence.
And then some.

If I could draw a line, I would go in circles.
And I did. Without a doubt.
Because it’s so comfortable to know what’s around the corner.
Isn’t it?
So effortless.
Almost natural and almost true.

I always thought “almost” was the saddest word to reply with.
Now I know to “almost belong” is the saddest thing to cope with.
That doesn’t make me less of a soldier.

I’m no cavalry, but I got loyalty like one.
The one infantry can always count on and win a war with.
The battles in your head are for free and a white flag is no option.
Only a hangover and a missed drunken call.

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