Minus One

Rising soon to meet your maker,
Running from the soulless taker,
You breathe hard, then stare into
The bloodshot eyes of a putrid faker.

Are you the same one, the great kingmaker?
Will you set me free or will you take her?
What is to be my ultimate end?
To rearrange, or to stand and face it?

Time will tell, but I don’t have time.
Time will heal, but not this wound.
The emptiness threatens to drowned me.
How will I survive this trial?

Maybe someone will come along.
Soon, I hope, to save my life.
Maybe things will turn out better,
But I won’t hold my breath for that.

Is there a future without pain?
Is there another special person
Waiting for me to come along?
I tease myself when I hope.

It’s time to meet reality.


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

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