Blood Doves

Another summer of black bullet and white heat rhetoric. The tally is in and once again, black tears outpacing death. Fiery marchers adding another link to Martin Luther's chain. Bull horns blowing out poison balls of rubber room insane. The innocent are forever gifted to the cool uncaring earth. With hanging head we ponder, what's a poor life really worth. Enter the smoke and cracked mirror of onion paper blame. Water colored common sense, sent bleeding down the drain. Time tosses a mint of forgiveness into the mouth of death. 'til the dove inherits another black bullet to the breast.