The Victim of the Hour

Take the empty bullet hanging from my neck, why don’t you?

Why don’t you? Just take and lodge the last remaining pieces

Of the picture on the wall (where you used to pound your fists)

Into the judged severity of my severed jugular, maybe that

Will mend it medicine man, maybe you will find me again

(Barely breathing) Barely breathing just after that horrid sound rang

Through the night? Yes, through the night! The neighbours’ screams

Were not much louder than mine—pity—but it isn’t an awful contest

Just injustice in motion (you see) and you killed the only person

That was trying to set you free. Free the trigger, why don’t you?

Why don’t you? Are you scared they’ll come after you, after me?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s