Between The Bars and The Ignorance
By Phalanx
Dead drop, I found where your hands left the story.
Two pound sledge, instead of three.
Weight is a limitation.
You can still deliver force with intent.
I remember my buddy, he died in prison for what he did.
What you lose makes you wonder what was it,
That went wrong.
Be quiet, son.
He was so wise.
I'm burning, father.
I can't tell critter from killer.
Tell me my hands aren't meant for murder.
I love too much to let it end this way.
I have a job to do.
I'll stay away until i'm right.
Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited.
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Copyright 2015 Phalanx
Published on Friday, November 6, 2015.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
Stand by...Comments on "Between The Bars and The Ignorance"
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On Tuesday, January 1, 2019, Roxxi
(32) wrote:
This is a gut puncher of a write but beautiful like wrought iron bars.
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On Saturday, November 7, 2015, TropicalSnowstorm
(1703) wrote:
This is a fantastic piece! I love the allusion to a story unknown, yet inferred by the detail you provide. Wonderful! Ciao, T/S