Hand on the Gun

hand on the gun

it never ends, while
the eye of time moves
us beyond redemption

hate heating up steel
in the slaughterhouse.

another precious dropping
on cold concrete.

colors everywhere taking
the fall, like before, like always.

in the machine jolly laughter
celebrates market share

like always, like before.

but to break out of our harshly chiseled interiors,
to see the light of our true reflections, to at least

be kind to ourselves, to be tender with ourselves,
to put down the fist long enough for caring.

Paul Lojeski