Underneath the clouds

The soldiers march
and people lay down
dead or pretending.
I see the way I am in mirrors
and I know I am different.
But underneath the clouds,
I am just the same as they;
Marching dead, pretending.
Love struck, bullet kissed,
sucking at hospital straws,
listening to the machines
beat my drum— and the IV
kissing babies and signing
the peace treaty.
Underneath the clouds,
we’re all the same,
each one of us
in our different ways.

written on 03/22/2011 by: Matt Kane