and she rages against them.

Round faces, round eyes –
washed of innocence,
that’s not how it’s supposed to be.
A story unheard of,
suffering – is there something beyond that?
Something so deep that it warps
both the mind and the soul.
How do you take the sheep
down to the slaughter,
knowing what awaits them?
A shepherd leading his flock
into the waiting arms of wolves.
How black was your soul, shepherd?
How black was your heart, shepherd?
Who will bring vengeance to you?
Who will dress in wolves clothing,
who will rage against you?
Out of the shadows, he will come.
My ears are big to hear your lies,
my ears are big to hear their truth.
He will say –
and he will rage against them.
Our of the shadows, she will come.
My eyes are large to see your darkness,
my eyes are large to see their light.
She will say –
and she will rage against them.
Our mouths are hungry for revenge,
Our mouths are hungry for justice.
They will say –
and they will rage against them.
They will shed the clothing of wolves
and they will carry fire in their hearts,
fire and fury and vengeance,
and they will be the good shepherds.
Shepherds who will not be quieted,
by those who bring the sheep to slaughter.


gun smoke.

I see you, ready for war
with your gun and your attitude.
I see you there, armed too
with your judicial vigilantism;
your sentence would be swift,
in theory. Painless even.
I am not blind to what you see.
I see the world for what it is;
broken, but beautifully so.
broken, but tragically so.

I hope you never have to see
the aftermath of what I know
you’re capable of. I hope.
So beautiful through the haze
of a gun that’ll never stop smokin’.
Thing is, the thing is,
they were beautiful too.
Broken, but beautifully so.
Broken, but tragically so.