The gun has been facing me for too long
The final thought and word from the poet
To be someone’s is to hurt self
To be no one’s is far better
Cracked eyes and tiger streams melt
Lashes collect at dripped edge
lept in multitudes, landed not once
Knees buckle under gravity
Chance has torn the light from eye’s view
Teeth scratch, the bite cruel and deep
But words, those words have lead wars without end
Have me listen to poison, falsities proved echos
In dark- clouded minds,  night delivers truth
Harsh truth of moments blind
The nightmare persists
One’s life is not yet to be theirs.