condemned

in dealing with the past I usually have to deceive myself
when I tell myself about adaption it's sickening
successfully chasing the ghost of war for years on end
curl up with it nightly like a blanket
exhale it and repress it daily
the war itself is seemingly stronger than I am
than I'll ever be
strangle every last piece of it out
I hold it close
I'm sure I hold it too close,
plan to suffocate it
trap it inside
squeeze it so close to me that it's dying to get away