soldier in another’s war

dim lights shine on dark nights

the hospital foyer is silent

abandoned

i feel like a ghost, passing through

the glass doors unseen, pausing beneath the

streetlamp outside. its light is dim, yet steadfast.

wasted.

forced into labour by an unfeeling cycler

both of us keep watch in a world where we have no use

(or power)

we are pawns. disposable.

i sit on the cold metal bench beneath the streetlamp as

fatigue floods my bones

the bench is wet

it rained

is this a war?

i look at my scrubs, stained with the blood of a dead man.

i think we are losing

we all die, in the end

here, in the heart of night, the only sound is my own heartbeat

i did not sign up for this war

(this life)

to cross blades with Death is a fool’s errand, indeed

what child thought he could stand a chance

against the master of time? of this realm and the next?

death taunts us, allowing us the illusion of power

while asserting his claim when we grow too emboldened

the streetlamp flickers

death is here

to escape with a new victim tonight

my heartbeat quickens

the war rages on