Or so you thought,
the days come crashing down
like bullets, you said, a bullet through the brain.
The numbing effect on all of us
who live in it shall see.
The bullet, warm, right from the gun.
Delivered, you said, by me.
Or so I thought.
The nights come falling hard,
like blankets, bags, and chloroform.
Hearing those of us who say
otherwise is folly.
Foolishness to play their games.
A bullet in the brain.
Those of you who see will say
that we are here and now.
Selfishness to hear the bang.
A bullet, warm, from me.