It’s harlequin—

there’s no need to call yourself a man

you’ll never live up to the plan

someone rang the bell but never gave the word

now you’re slurring through sights those punches blurred

you tell yourself it’s just a few cheap shots

but kid, they’ll always have you on the knots

there ain’t no pulling up to them

just got to keep yourself above the hem

cause there’s no light

at the end of this fight

—only ruin.


4 thoughts on “Harlequin

  1. Very poetic response to the massacre – not a joker here – madness, and wasted intelligence. On the knots and filled with drugs–what a waste, what a horror! Well writ, my dear friend. I think of you often!

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