Steel Wildflower

Cloth doll in a battlefield
Flower on the nozzle of a gun
Blood of the heart
In the heart of turmoil
Separation of eye and mind
Hand and sleeve
If one could do without life giving organs
Without the case around it
And be spirit in the flesh
That would be the goal
Attainable, no
But did strive for, intently
To leave the bonds of this suffocating thread knit prison
To the grow the bones and not feel it
To dismiss the subject of humanity altogether
What absolute euphoria
That shall not be mine at a point when I can really experience it
The dreams of a paper doll seem always to be ignored by the gods
And we are quite fine with that
This petal army, suspended by one stem
Can survive select weather
And certain damages
But there are no guarantees
From the steel wildflower
Or the garden in which it grows