Voice 1:

Night,

blankets all the fight

can’t see the barrel,

your smoking gun.

I see your motives,

stippled by my rage and fear-

don’t say you didn’t hear me

cry,

don’t minimize my raw-torn flesh,

your final judgement.

Sharp crack

stumble, fall

to my obilivion.

 

Voice 2:

Band Justices’  brotherhood,

bewildered-

faces blur and modify,

everyday.

heart slams against

cold, callused bars

trapping fear.

 

 

 

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