Pow
The POW of my heart
the POW of my soul
digs deep a hole
I cannot explain,
do not push it,
don't push or I shall show you Hell
I'll give you a war that you wouldn't believe
to hear is one
but to live horror is another.
To snap the heart in two like a stick
and try to put it together with glue
appreciate death as it comes closer to you;
I push and you pull
we dance a game of tug of war
and go there and here and over there and anywhere,
but we run in fright
in the night
and we look at each other and pay no mind,
not knowing anything about life before death.
The POWs of society rip away at edges of cigarette packs
and drink clear beer from gutters and laugh at death,
but when it comes to your door
we cry and ask why...
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2014
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