Reflections

You gave it to me dear friend,
The ammunition to feed my soul,
The thirty eight slug that left me broken,
Lying silent on the pavement.

I only wanted you to think
of the repercussions your actions
May bring you,
And the life that would end.

But it wasn’t enough
You wanted more,
Money,
Fame,
Power.

Hold out your hand dear friend,
Hold me in your hands,
Don’t mind the stain I leave
On your palms for it will wash away.

Just like the memory you held,
Of our friendship,
Please, you know this isn’t a dream
Stop trying to wake yourself up!

“The grass seems a little more brown
On this side of the fence…”
Isn’t that what you said at first
When you moved to greener pastures.
Or was that my imagination?

Was it so cold out here
that you couldn’t stand
In the rain
And just listen?

Shhh, do you hear it?
The soft cry of the wind
Lamenting a soul
Lost forever to the fire,
Scorched and twisted.
Open your hands and let me go,
Like you did to your respect,
Your honor,
Your family.

Our ashes will all just blow away in the wind anyway.

© Justin Frieberg, All rights reserved