Justice

Sometimes everybody hurts All the time I hurt I read the manual Weighed the options Slammed the door shut To my conscience And it knocks ceaselessly And it wails like a lamb in search of its mother Negligence on my part Ignorance? Think looong live lethargic loose don’t lose and as if this is a game or competition of some sort and we sort thru the remnants reluctantly re living every now and again being reminded that everybody hurts some times and I hurt all the times and I wish I were a licensed firearm holder Oh how I would hold it And never let it go Even more than John Wray and his nephew Would my love for it be And daily would I caress its trigger In the faces of men Young and old Who insist On upsetting me Who crave The future so badly They can’t leave our children And yes I have not forgotten To clean and oil my machine To maintain it For yes I would be hurt If it ceased to propel And deliver a good show Of interior anatomy Of red velvet liquid Of a slurry of adipose Stirred by bones Which can no longer protest And claim justice For I Would be the arm of justice I would be in control I would have it all In the palm of my hand And the tables would turn Sometimes I would hurt And everybody would hurt all the times!