Play dead so they don’t shoot you twice.
But she is merciless, and she knows your flaws.
Cold dead eyes, and silk as smooth as her
Flowing hair,
And the swords unimpaled.
The temple walls are gilded in gold.

The explosion whips you fifty yards away
With the wheels treading the highway
Brakes asunder
Falling and finding out.

Pain is dry and the thrill is ephemeral.
Yet there is kindness where you thought not.
In corners dark and grey.
Mavericks, and automatons
Cannot prove you evil.