thread bare sheild

every one has limits

Teeth grit

To the point of cracking

Fists clenched

To the point of aching

The furrowed brow

Wrinkled to a painful scowl

How much more

Can a threadbare soul

Swallow

The barrel of your mouth

Releases those abusive bullets

That rape what’s left of my soul

I left my spirit

In the whisky bottle

On the top shelf

So no one can get to it

A guard dog

With the voice of joe pesci

Protects the weak scared remainder

Of what was once me…

Author's Note

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Ouch.. and ouch again! This is such a painful write to read and undoubtedly was written from a dark past. Is too angry to be fiction, too cutting to be a mere story. Powerful stuff, yet skilled to be core

[Michael of Gilead]

Hey, whattya talkin bout here? Are you callin me a dog?

[MOON]

Poignant , yet very funny at the end . Love the rhythm and the lines.

[Ed Hart]

song sung black and blue