Poezja

Who was the dancer of death? 
You went for the kill, 
and not for the killer. 
 
The frail armistice. You 
launch a drive for the drill. 
It was more than what- 
 
meets the eye. Looks like an 
Armageddon. You begin in earnest 
to ward off the paranoia. 
 
Nativity was at stake. A 
captive psyche fights the fading 
memory. Your face goes blank. 
 
My things and your things. 
It should not have happened this way. 
It should not have happened that way.