A graphic poem about a victim doing what he must to the man who hurts him so. |
-Shotgun, Can’t Defend- by Keaton Foster Brainless Dead Nothing In the literal sense A hell of a thing He came at me What could I do Boom 12 gauges of lead Right to the head I must admit I wondered Just for a second With regard to the mess But just as quick I pulled the trigger The enemy of me Is now very much dead Without any challenge Without a word on his behalf In the room was just him and I One of us is now deceased The other, ready to finally live Quickly I confessed That he got all of What he deserved A form of justice served Payment For all that he did Seems fair to me Such an enemy I have come to know well I understand What he has done And what he Would further be capable of Those way beyond him and I And our closeted relationship Will of course Not understand He of course won’t Offer up any opposition The facts will be clear Precise In this case The dead man Will tell no tale The forensics Will be in favor me The scene Perfectly staged So precise That like any good lie For it to be true All that has to happen Is that the person telling it Must believe it as so If they do Then the lie is absolute And in this lie I do Shotgun, can’t defend Not what I have done But what he Has forced me to do Such a weapon of ends Has left him unrecognizable Not only as himself But as a human being When they come To clean up what I’ve done They’ll ask me Why so brutal Why such force Such overkill I will calmly reply It was simply him or I It was and eye for an eye It was very much justified Maybe they’ll understand And maybe they won’t Either one matters none I could never protect myself Before this overtly dark day No longer is that the case There is a point In every victims life Where they Are no longer victims Instead they are monsters Just like the ones That created them This is that day For me as well as him… Shotgun, Can’t Defend Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |