Gone By Dawn

So stereotypical of the night to play these tricks again

Bullies & their targets mix again

Attempting to sabotage, whatever rationality is left about

With enough sentences phrased to leave no room for doubt.

And the prisoners are asking him to stop.

To view smoke and hear cough

Deranged by the blocks, that are closing in near.

How does it feel?

When you are pawned for your soul?

Shivs & swinging blows

And praying that the raise goes on

Enough to keep you awake till dawn

But by sunrise all pretenders will be gone

So, consider this a swan song.

The lightbulb flickers; the old woman at the bar serves another traveller.

His prison jumpsuit and silent face tells her he is wanted for murder

The woman couldn’t care less; for she is not at all impressed

An escaped prisoner can never really escape

A murderer is a weak man running away from his fears

“How does it feel?

To not be in control? To not feel whole?”

–Gore.

The cops taper off the scene. Lights flash uncharacteristically around the tavern.

A gun shot was heard loud at this late time of hour.

The cops take out, whatever is left of her.

She is shivering in fear; his dead face brings back tears.

For his eyes still resembled of that when he was young

And she remembers how she used to call him,”Son.”

Before he was taken away for a petty steal

How does it feel?

To finally see your son after so long?

Still there but mostly gone?

The tavern still plays his favourite songs.

And the bullet and the body are thrown out at dawn.

Photo by Vijay Putra on Pexels.com

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