POEM · 11/12/24

Bronco

In old americana fashion

The wind blows as it always has, never taking a turn to pick me up No manpower to embrace, no ammunition to defend whatever is left to protect The only fuel a hunger so deep and consuming there is nothing left for you to take To take from me To take with you To the place where the winds stop blowing And the smoke keeps showing And you'll tell them about your true blue Trust me though, the mine was never you.