Wednesday, May 16, 2012

The Reason

Let me make this perfectly crystal clear-
the sole and only reason I'm still here,
the main reason that my show isn't done...

I can't afford the bullets or the gun.

This is the only reason I can give
for each breath I take and each day I live.
If fate saw fit to give me half a choice
you wouldn't be listening to this voice.

Instead you'd be reading an empty page,
not another metered musing of rage.
There would be nothing here for you to see
if the ultimate choice were left to me.

But now it's time to stop this rhythmic whine
and go back to pretending life is fine.


  1. One day these poems will pay for your bullets and your gun.

    1. Thank you... I think! But I don't hold out much hope for that -

      Poetry is a notoriously bad roommate.