Sore and Sick

-Sore and Sick-
by Keaton Foster


Sore and sick
Near my death
Finality has come
No more can I resist
I must embrace
All that I’ve done
All that I’ve failed to do
There is only one chance
One ride upon the horse
There is no tomorrow
Because for me
There never was meant to be
My diatribe will remain
Words for the ageless
Words not to live by
But rather
A lesson of sorts
Take from it
What you will
What you can
You owe me nothing
And I owe you even less
Our mutual exclusivity
Within this calamity
Is quite apparent
Sore and sick
A disease with no chance
When I was a child
I heard others saying
This creation of yours
This one not meant to be
Is a sickly abomination
Of our gods good graces
Terminate his existence
Because he will grow wicked
Spoiled upon the ideas
Of his uninterested creation
He will never let it go
He will never forget
The words uttered here
He will hold everything in peril
He will destroy himself
But not until he destroys
As many of us as he can
Let him die
So that we may live
He is a sin
Ours to be exact
End his suffering
So that it does not
Become any of ours
That is all that was said
All that was confessed
I never heard another word
At least not ones
That would make a difference
Sore and sick
Indeed I still remember when
In my mother’s womb
Those words rang out
Coming to me as a dream
Coming to me as a scream
In my head it has since been
Kicking around
Breaking all rationale down
Tearing apart my sanity
Causing me to flee humanity
Hiding from everything outside
I sit here for hours on end
Writing out what I’ve lived
An undiagnosed
Anti-social propagandist
Expressing himself
Via a medium that few read
And that even fewer
Dare believe
But belief and conviction
Matter very little to me
These words find home
Upon every empty page
They will always remain
Part of me and my life
Part of something not wanted
Something bitterly contested
Something that was ordered ended
A conscience is a hell of a thing
The saving force when
None are left to fight
On the behalf of those defenseless
Sore and sick
Near my certain death
I still have not been able to forget
What was said
What was expressed
Those words are here
And everywhere I place them
Variations of nothing but the same
A life not wanted has remained
Out of spite I have further made it
At least until now that is…


Sore and Sick
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.