Sirens Hurt the Senses

Hiding. Living death.
Pills, smoke, heroin, smack.
Fragments of conversation,
in case the line is tapped.
Speaking in code,
baby brother,
trapped.

Dust beneath wooden cracks.
Kids used to have fun.
Lost minds echo silence;
It can’t be undone.
The gun lies empty,
get rid,
gone.

One sits disfigured,
the other stands disguised.
Infuriating cycles of violence,
two shots and fifteen pairs of eyes.
Honour begets hate,
until someone
dies.

Hell hath no fury,
like a brother scorned.
Broken tempers and merciless revenge
is sweet when monsters are born?
Bitter twisted pain,
two families
torn.

Sirens hurt the senses,
Tears are wet.
For those that have lost and loved.
Permissions to let.
Don’t come in,
baby brother
– not yet.

ink is free, so...

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