"We Choose"
The trash collector grabs his boots
and brushes off the dust
Deciding who it is he shoots
and who it is he trusts.
His two glass eyes reflect the light
of words yet to be penned
He feels the force of heightened sight
While waiting for the end.
The barrel pushed against his heart
His trigger finger calm
He slowly sets the pin to start
The handle in his palm.
A consecrated treachery
A garbage can of lies
“They’ll never get the best of me!”
As chambered bullet flies.
They found him in his reading room
A grin upon his face
A stranded thought, his final tomb
His final resting place.
The trash collector grabs his boots
and brushes off the dust
Deciding who it is he shoots
and who it is he trusts.
His two glass eyes reflect the light
of words yet to be penned
He feels the force of heightened sight
While waiting for the end.
The barrel pushed against his heart
His trigger finger calm
He slowly sets the pin to start
The handle in his palm.
A consecrated treachery
A garbage can of lies
“They’ll never get the best of me!”
As chambered bullet flies.
They found him in his reading room
A grin upon his face
A stranded thought, his final tomb
His final resting place.