hanging tight
in a tube sock
rolling around my wrist
veining through my fist
come on all you takers
i’ll swing till my truth wins
your switch blades don’t scare me
your handguns get the odds
but my honor gets even
when common wisdom says
pull back
we swing out
bare chested
youth maybe wasted
on the young
but time is wasted
on the old
it’s a pipe dream to you
what if i surf through?
our blood is up
our path is clear
rage is its own reason
sometimes
apathy is treason
shattered bones in swollen casts
arms in slings like warrior pendants
crutches hold up broken pride
hope the casket’s got none inside
but the insult
will be defended
any day for sure
beyond any measure
fool’s gold won’t shine
still this is what I treasure
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