Fighters find their exit

Broken people do

And claws shred our backs

We’re left with memory pain

That secret sacred treasure

Of life-long comrades

Could have never been

We had no way of knowing

That they can never be

Connected to another

Cause they only breathe

One long breath at a time

And when it’s over

When he run out of air

Well that’s when you see

The depth of that broken man

He will blame you

And mean it

Because he’s incapable

Of healing self-reflection

He says, “I don’t have to.”

Then he’ll take another slow breath

Poor poor people who are next