Keep On My Friend

I hear a whining call
A friend’s last whisper
A shifting table leg
The clicking sound
As if clipping fingernails
And I drop my revolver
And hold my head in my hands.

The world is in revolution
My father no longer in devotion
The time is dry as a barrel
And I hold the last rotten apple
My fears hold nothing
As the curtains drift
Tied, yet… free on a breeze.

“Trapped,” I tell my mother
Proud is she, and sad.
There is so much more to be
And we both lack a windowsill.
That sweet vision open
As the spring lit morning reflection
Beyond my pain of glass.

Now I wonder to another,
To a friend in our world tied
Tried we are, as trying to proceed
We lack a sense perhaps
Of society’s reality.
Girls disgrace our hearts
And success lingers so close…

My table creaks oddly now
The only thing that makes sense
Reality slamming against the wall
Shattering in a cloud of powder
Taking my thoughts away
Leaving just the dust and shards
As I get up and go out the door once more.

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