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Running Rooftops

Running Rooftops

I was running over rooftops, chased by the local cops,
leaping ‘cross buildings with a ninety foot drop.
Freedom keeping blood fired, chasers getting slow, tired.
I can see the roof’s door across the gravel top.

I go through its open clear, racing down the winding stair,
jumping three and four steps in descending flight.
Sweat pouring down my face, cops still giving chase.
Air is sweet on the street escaping into night.

I run to the nearby park in the dim made of dark,
down a lane, ‘cross a path where the green is grass.
This should be my final caper, odds against me not in favor.
If I fail, there is no bail and that will be my last.

Then I hear a gun sounding. Pain hits my chest pounding
and I tumble bleeding liquid on the hardened floor
where I feel my life seeping, creeping from my body leaking
as I lay cold and breathless, dead forevermore.

I can feel no heart beating. Memories of my thinking fleeting
back to when I did inflict my crimes of hurt and pain
which is why I cannot languish here compelled by awful anguish
to atone for moments my humanity went insane.

Death is now my waking bell. I repent my sins in Hell
and pay the price each night to pay the debt that once again
keeps me running across the rooftops, being chased by armed cops,
and bleeding ‘til eternity says my bleeding’s at an end.

Namyh
Written by Namyh
Published
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