Opposite Ends and Separate Flows

The shots come from around every corner.
Whizzing by, I try to duck and hide.
Death is in the air and I’m terrified.
Every step I make seems to be wrong.
Before I’m hit, it won’t be long.
The push away from what good is left.
Letting the broken stay broken in the end.
The shabby bridge I just can’t seem to mend.
No matter how much I suppress myself and try to bend.
It feels like it’s over, but I don’t want it to be.
I’m scraping the bottom of the empty barrel, trying to hang onto eternity.
It doesn’t seem to be working.
My palms are sweaty and my voice is coarse.
My eyes are blind, and my head is spinning.
I keep on fighting, but there doesn’t seem to be a chance of winning.
It’s hard to let go, and then let go.
It’s hard to be good, and not know.
On opposite ends, and separate flows…

Advertisements

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 )

w

Connecting to %s