The shooter (GRAPHIC)

Far from home and soul is me
so anchorless, adrift
divorced am i from family tree
and Maker’s kingly gift

with jealousy and wounded pride
without a sense of worth
and none to whom i dare confide
upon this blackened Earth

with poisonous intentions now
i hear the schoolyard bell
my private demon’s made a vow
to take with me to Hell.

1 Comment

  1. Whoa! Very strong poem, Lee.

    Liked by 1 person

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