I was almost sure I'd made it through in one piece

but after years have passed I began to notice

certain patterns re-emerge

and when I went to scratch my itch

there were no fingers to do the job

and the itch was a whole side of me

that went missing

I trusted a metaphysical agenda

only a fool would undertake...

TA-DA!! Here I am a warrior

diced by some ephemeral samurai

and left to ponder as my one-legged torso

and the head atop it begin to slant and shift

I think I'd better re-think those anecdotes I'd planned

to bore the young'uns with...

it seemed so different through my eyes

and even my story is relative to my assassin's tale

or who I'd never meet or who I'd left behind

there is something so uplifting about defeat

it tempts one to think of wholeness

but I've in spite of myself come to know better

even as what's left made it through...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.