Lucky to be alive

Blood smear that's new here.
Muddy tracks and that sudden fear.
Lost, my dear, the way -
Didn't come near
home til decades later -
In a box, dug up from the ditch, out front.
The smell was crisp and unrefined,
like it hadn't made up its mind.
- What death smelt like.

Maybe, summer camps in the clutches of winters duress.
Or, sequins and old money.
The kind geezers use to buy senselesenselessness.
That rusty feeling of returning to the earth.
The dirt.
Ones lot in life.
Not a lot in life.
Life's lot, in ones and zeros.
The forgotten hero's.
Or the victims no one knew.
That killer sittin' inside of you.