target on back

prepared as the sun setting on

the horizon of orange

there is a flitter of whispers

and a gargoyle of lies resides nearby

while the cool breeze

reaches out to your bones

yet the power of the moon

sneaks up

something soft but soon

to bring out the energy of

a blood shot pair of eyes

and getting over broken years

of long ago

but now there is not one place

I will ever be afraid of

and I have my sharp steel soul

picking its own

bulls eyes

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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