They pick us off like sitting ducks,
Thinking were the spies for the dark.
But we roar, tear and bark.
Kill me once, kill me twice or even thrice, shred my skin and bare my bone.
But even the the hang man closed his eyes on his own. Then we all wonder if were ever wake again. Roll the dice, tricks up and try and pretend your sane.
You know what to expect, but maybe that easy target wanted to be hit. A brazen shout, to state is that the best you’ve got?
Is it, is this it … Who gets the victory lap?
D May 2018