We chanced upon a stair;
you said he wasn't there.
Shame started on my mouth,
but I still had my doubts.
I left you going up,
you left me falling down.
As I gazed into your
gazeless stare,
I realized you weren't there.
I chanced upon the door;
swung open by its own.
Inside I searched, trying,
knowing it'd disappoint.
I chanced upon a memory;
I found some old regret.
You were there, remember?
You never made me forget.
It was when we were lost children,
when I was sold to a duty
and I danced with Death.
I roamed those lonely paths
in my ivory boots and flak jacket,
prisoner of the cold
and of my chains.
I searched for your enemies,
leading them to Him
and His eternal darkness.
I walked a million hills
and passed by him,
that man beyond the stair.
I wandered deeper and deeper
into that lonely path of mine.
I lost the world and myself,
never looking back in time.
I must've died alone,
a long long time ago.
The question keeps asking my mind:
Why, why, oh why.
I have been a loyal servant, haven't I?
I have killed your enemies,
should I find more lost children?
But you can't spare an answer;
that old man is gone forever,
as I end upon this stair.
-----
For those smarties, I did stole a lot of the stuff from Bowie's The Man Who Sold The World (actually I just listened to Nirvana's version) and Slaughterhouse-Five. I twisted both together and made something new!
This has been my most complex poem ever, metaphors aplenty (only clue I'm gonna give - the stair is going to Heaven). I just hope my vagueness doesn't kill my message. Or should I say, Kurt Vonnegut's message?
