Some Day I'M Coming Back

Some Day I’m Coming Back The things that made us who we are aren’t written in a book nor do the things they gave us equal what they took. Hands that rocked the cradle soon left welts behind the harshness of their laughter made it less than kind. Priest at Sunday dinner guest at a meal he’s leeching washed down with Irish whiskey and the bullshit that he’s preaching of the sacred and the pious and all the souls he saves, bite your cheek and do not utter, kiss their ass though they are knaves. Walk the streets in other’s clothing knowing that it once was new, bear the brunt of other’s laughing at the coat and not at you. Grit your teeth and sheath your anger for you must be kind and meek when just once you’d like to give them the beating that they seek. Harden heart and nerve and sinew refuse to knuckle under protect whatever’s left from the hands of gods that plunder. Savor freedom’s single breath view escape through dungeon’s crack holding tight to rage’s mantra “some day I’m coming back”. John G. Lawless for Vicky Tsiluma contest – I’ll Be Back