The Bullet

There’s nothing left to say

Nothing left to do

For even the broken record refuses to spin

Words forever the same

Cancel each other out

Nullify by second nature

 

Yet he tries to convince himself

That he was out of the wrong

Out of the muck of his unending ways

He forced the change

Shed his skin too soon

Efforts premature

Less than sincere

Simply because he had to show something

For the end was just too close for comfort

 

And so he moves within the half-light

Amongst the falling rain

The last dance of an old life

Or so it was supposed to be

For the past never truly goes away

It only hides in shadows

Waiting for the most vulnerable moment

That spiteful opportunity

 

But still he chases the dream

Digs his nails into the fantasy

So it bleeds just enough

To show some sort of life

Some sort of regard

Because he can’t bear the disappointment

The blunt through-and-through of reality

A bullet so hopeless to dodge

 

2012 Vincent Cuccolo