There's a shadow at my back with its
Grimy claws holding my shoulders and
Guiding my fingers towards the gun.
Sometimes I wonder if I should follow.
Should I listen?
At this point now, I'm running out of choices,
Out of opinions that belong to me
Because they all belong to him.
And I ask him,
"What do I do if I fail?"
And he answers, fingers around my mouth.
"You do not fail. We let the world burn,
Or we die trying. That is no failure."
YOU ARE READING
The Beginning To The End
PoetryI've never been a poet, that much is certain, but I can tell you that it does get written. A lot. These are the collections of my poetry I've written, and some of them hit hard for me.
