I have a bleak white flag
That I will hoist at noon.
To the highest hill I will drag
This flag, so very soon.

Gone are the days
Where fighting seems vital
I lie where the sun lays
Blissful and idle.

I will caress my face
Reflected upon the page,
And stowaway my mace-
Take a bow, jump off my stage.

Goodnight 
Sleep tight
Flashes of lightning;
So soon,
Comes noon
My face scrunches like a prune.

Good morning 
Soft snoring
The clouds were merely a warning;
I hum
Hope in crumbs
Wits dim and dumb.

I carry the bleak white flag
Upon my shoulders, a burden.
I am a lone stumbling stag
Veins pumping adrenaline.

I surrender
I rest

I wish to bleed

Upon the grass
Dry and old
Rotting
No longer green

I sleep
Lashes cupping my cheeks
Shadows uneven
Dead silent
Dead
Dead.

You have hunted.
And you return,
Victorious.

Good night.
Sleep tight.
The maggots bite
At rotting flesh,
Veins a mesh
Wounds still fresh.

The dawn
Upon
A bloodied white flag
Draped over a rotting, golden stag;
The hunt has ended
The hope was merely lended
By you,
A god,
And your belonging demanded.