July
I sat in my tattered lawn chair, dirty, drenched in sweat...
My hand slipped off my old gun,
as I played Russian roulette...
She walked up to me with disgust in her eyes...
She was gearing up to say goodbye...
So she flew away into the humid sky;
into the wretched hell that is July...
Copyright © Darrell Hoover | Year Posted 2012
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