Sitting at the peak of the world
Loose paper flapping in hand
More than the leaves from the trees flowing before me
The tree tops earnestly staring at me
Mocking them
Mutilating the corpse of one of their own
With a needle point quill
But I care
But I’m sorry
And that makes it okay
As long as the trigger of the Lugar is pulled
The bullet meant for the commanding officer
Barking orders
Making masculinity miniscule
Then all of the squandered lives of
children
Women
Perfectly good men
Are justified
