Licking the wounds

Onto the bed I collapse praying for this day to elapse

My mind sifts the rubble and crunches the remains form the mental punches.

Trying to figure out the beating administered through an implied simple meeting.

“Oh please come, don’t delay – we promise everything is quite okay.”

 

Curse the arrogance of my ego high opening cracks for sneaking cowards to lie.

Whispers in one ear of something dear –

Whilst plunging into my spine to the hilt a knife with no guilt

Fortune and lady luck did not smile and my defenses did they rile,

If not for an aimed target long since dead I would have surely fatally bled:

In the end warned them in advance that in a month’s time hence

“You shall have your last dance.”

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