Seventeen and full of rage,
He fell in love with the careless gauge,
of lipsticks red and flawless age,
and monsters kept within the cage.
Wonder lust and broken down,
nothing world, can’t stop me now.
bullets spent through hell spit fire,
souls to burn on sandy pyres.
New world turned and spat him out,
split in two and hovering ’round
the space that lies beneath the dust,
of fallen shells and tanks and rust.
seventeen and full of rage,
tossed to wolves in peaceful days.
Struggling just to find a fray,
to stay as one in better ways.
Hopeless place has hope still yet,
should he see more then useless vet,
that stares him down suspending time,
when steam fades from the mirror’s sides.
Blue eyes that shine though nothing’s left,
lungs that breathe with a heart that’s deaf,
blockaded by the hurt inflicted,
by orders screamed but soul conflicted.
Thirty-three and mid-way though,
’til something better this life proves.
To hold once more then fabled toll,
of waning sunlight and withered soul.
Beautiful stranger hold fast to hope,
it’s the only thing to help you cope.
the prospect that remains is this;
spent all his love on weapon’s kiss.
So leave me not in this place you’ve made,
to hide from sun in despairing shade.
but rather hold me amidst the plight,
to leave the dusk and sleep the night.
Seventeen and full of rage,
And finally at the end of days.
Peaceful with the demons be,
and Angel born, of misery.
Copyright ©: 2012
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The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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