March

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March

Named for the God of War but Loki is your nature. Each year you bring the prospect of spring yet your deceit hides that promise under your cloak of white. I should know better, but you understand how much I need to believe your promises.

Beware the ‘Ides of March’; Julius did not heed the warnings and you repaid his arrogance with the cold steel of betrayal.

Now you say that you are the master of time and will move the sun to bring me another hour of light. But you’ve only robbed from the beginning to repay the end.

Damn War

Damn war

It was February 23rd, 1967 when the men in their pressed uniforms with shiny metals and polished shoes knocked on his front door.

That’s was when his mother locked herself into her room and cried until she finally gave in and kissed the .22 caliber God; leaving him to fend for himself against foster parents that made him join in their games.

Before they fed him the little round pills that filled him with numbness. Before they showed him how to inject false hope into his veins.

Hopefully, February 23rd can’t find its way through the six feet of dirt.