the ugly writers


The Criminal   I heard They killed you Shot you in the head Three times They felt Just one was not enough To vent the hatred they had nursed A long time I heard…… They buried you, Somewhere far Hid their crime In wilderness As if Just leaving you dead Was not enough To vent…


And as the fires swallowed my cries
I opened my eyes to face life’s lies.
I closed my heart and gave up tries for a prize:
to accept failures without whys and be wise
to break ties and move in smaller gyres
to avoid fires and flat tires caused by familiar mires.