deepundergroundpoetry.com
The first shots were fired at sunrise
It’s funny how we're afraid to start,
using life as an excuse and run for tomorrow,
Life is nearer; face down in the mud,
and I won’t touch it, alive or not,
I run to the one with their head split open
with a vision of blood pumping – like a fresh ornament,
My whole life has been about confronting my fears,
and if not for death I wouldn’ have known where to stop.
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