Past Imperfect

Haunted by history’s scars
You scan the horizon but not the path.
All the indignations of the past
Orbit you like some holographic horror show.

The wonders of our present are
Unseen in the haze of what I’m not.
Tomorrow’s troubles are amplified,
Magnified through the lens of loss.

Ghosts and withered flowers
Are stacked between us like a wall
Of dead soldiers that never came
Home from an unnecessary war.

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