Sunday, August 26, 2012


It doesn’t end
with the snap of a gavel
No jangle of keys
to take off the cuffs
Perhaps a crime in itself
In a world where
Every day you strive to survive,
Looking over your shoulder
For the blade aimed
between your shoulder blades
A crappy game
where most days
The dice come up snake eyes
Or sevens and elevens
When you need
To make a point
Can’t be innocent here
Of your get run over, run down
Or used up,
Can’t play dumb either
Or someone marks
you as a narc
You either wise up
and learn the rules
And play this game to win
Or you always lose

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