Unbetitelt

I can feel them. Crammed, under my skin. There's no room for air. There's no room for movement. And still I can feel their rumbling. Demanding to escape their confinements. Even if I don't listen, they will get their way. Even if they have to rip open my flesh, like magma breaking through Earth's crust, they will get their freedom. I can try to realease them controlled. Try to pave their path. Straighten their stream. But if I'm too slow, they wont care.

I can't make peace with being at war. So as victory is out of reach, I strive for defeat. Diplomats try to reason me out that strategy. But I can feel every bullet my opponent has fired at me, stuck in my chest, my lungs collapsing. The diplomats talk of ending the war by extending a hand, but it's already a fight to lift a hand of which the bones are being shattered more and more with every strike. The only cease-fire is that of the delays of landmines, just to explode erratically when I dare to lift my foot on my misguided attempts at running away. But my opponent doesn't just react to my mistakes, my opponent demands a blood toll for the simple fact of my imperfection. By now I can promise, that I've tried every tactic, every manouver, but my opponent never leaves my side. So if victory is still out of reach, why is it so wrong to strive for defeat?

You said that I brought the snapdragons to life. That just by paying close enough attention, I turned the yellow dots surrounded by concrete into something worthwhile. And you paused for a second. For a beautiful second, what used to be boring, became important to you too. And then that second passed. And you oriented yourself back to a greener garden. To roses with thorns and brighter petals. I can't really blame you, when they’re just more memorable than common snapdragons. I've already learned a long time ago, how easy it is to ignore yellow dots. I already learned a long time ago, that I'm just a yellow dot.