Curate
I curate where the enemy presides
And guide the guarded art into a knife
In splitting uncontested sights, abide
Against myself, himself, my lying life
Who draws the line that lights itself afire?
Who fears a thing that thinks itself afraid?
Who makes the marks that, to require
Themselves complete, become unmade?
I am a fallen foe unto myself
As sure as I'm a sacrifice, I stay
Unfettered by the mess of avarice
And stop to start anew, another day