After the flood

You regretted it with the first scream
You dragged me by the hair into life
And pushed me out the door
(Still holding a considerable chunk)
Branded with your particular brand of madness
To wander the streets like some kind of
A Frankenstein — not quite dead but
Never finding his own tears
To be weaponized without allegiance
As the situation might require
To be wielded as a shield before
Those you chose to belong to
You welded my mouth shut so that
My screams would not disturb your
Delicate equilibrium
And went on your merry way asking for the world
As if it had not already been destroyed


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