Reductionist History

What does it look like?

How does it taste?

The sensation of joy,

time passed with no waste?

How's the half-life, and when

is it utterly debased?

Well, my half-life was whole,

before it was defaced,

but over time, the most vulgar

vandalism's been erased

and now I'm back to a

robust three-quarters, at least.

⬇️

It was only a favor,

it was only a felony.

It was meant in good faith,

is that what you're telling me?

If it's you who's the savior,

you sure ain't compelling me.

More like phantom, or wraith,

or some specter, some devilry,

skulking in hollow halls.

⬇️

I'm laughing again, look,

I'm more than alive.

I survived long enough

that I learned how to thrive,

happy new flesh

grown around rusted knives.

The skin of the oak

swallowed up, "Do Not Enter,"

its branches grew wide,

offered shade to dissenters.

It breathed, it relaxed,

and evermore feared no axe.

⬇️

It was only a sapling,

it was only the sun.

It was only the bullet,

what became of the gun?

The chamber was emptied,

it can't be undone.

Trigger finger was tempted

and the hand plays dumb,

after all, I was 'only a bum.'

⬇️

I was only a symbol,

I was never a saint.

If I were only so sinful

as the picture you'd paint,

I could say, "I'll see you in hell."

I know, and you know,

but you'll never tell.