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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1208477-HI-HO-FO-HUM-ONWARD-TROOPS
Rated: 18+ · Other · Writing · #1208477
war love and everything they didn't teach you in kindergarten
I have a napoleon Complex. My body is small, my personality is big. My feelings are not there. My drama is everywhere. We all have something we are missing. A part of us we never understood. And I need my army of Napoleonites, little frenchies running around with berets and long cocktail cigarettes. And there'd me my foreign affair administrator and top aid who would talk to boys for me. Tell me what to say to, instruct me in their ways – because to be perfectly honest, my army would be lost without that one administrator. We would be wandering through hostile territory without the faintest idea of what to expect – what the enemy’s next move would be. And I, Napoleon, would be anxiously talking to my shrink/foreign affair guru/translator about what that boy really meant when he said this, and what he was really trying to say when he touched me like that, and does he even like me?
And we all are left out to weather the storm when it comes to the opposite sex. They are there for the taking, for experimentation, and yet, if you fuck it up it's your mess to clean up. When your army starts dropping dead because you led them across foreign soil, slowly, and then quickly the morale will drop. And I’ll be alone in the world once more. Wandering aimlessly through an array of men who I don't really like, who don't really matter, and who probably won't remember my name. Because they know this land of bleak fortunes and lost souls, it's called one night stand, bang bang bang, you’re down. Shot in the leg, from behind when you weren't expecting it, weren't prepared and standing in front of you is your ally telling you the enemy is dead, but that losses were substantial because you didn’t’ know what you were doing.
And I’ll bang on the ground to get my frustration out, and scream some words that any mother would be horrified to hear, and I’ll get up, crawl back onto my white horse and ride away leaving the mess I made to be cleaned up another day. When it’s not snowing and when I have my sunglasses to protect my eyes from the clouds.
© Copyright 2007 Keller P. Ripley (tedders414 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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