Call me a nomad, a mendicant, or even an aimlessly meandering soul
Brand me a wandering ascetic bereft of all concepts of either fair or foul;
The world for me is now an inexplicable sphere of chaotic welter
Where thoughts, deeds and words make for a messy grid running Helter-Skelter.
Impervious to bliss and ignorant of pain
I am an empty hollow within which all emotions lay slain;
Thus when accosted by armed assailants seeking to induce dread
I calmly said “Let him strike me who he thinks can kill something that is already dead”
Helter-Skelter they ran with their guns and knives
Some tale that to narrate to their wives!
Courtesy of Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt