|Image source: http://uprisingradio.org/home/2014/09/08/i-am-a-man-jons-story/|
The flames engulfed and consumed gentile boy.
His lungs aflame, he tried to ignore pain.
Sulfur invades scent though he evades the gun.
The police yell they thought he had a gun.
He flees on foot, alone and frightened boy.
He escapes tonight, entrapped by mental pain.
The liquor cocooned him from searing pain.
Wrath and pride combined, as he finds a gun.
“Next time, I won’t run,” thought the hardened boy.
But the boy won’t let the gun extend his pain.
Written using NaPoWriMo’s Day Seven prompt, which is a tritina poetic form. This is my 1st attempt at this form. It feels clunky, but I enjoy the process. Juggling words in this form feels oddly meditative.
The dark subject matter is just where I am these days, but I like the way this one ended. Just because someone thinks of you as a violent animal doesn’t mean you have to fulfill their ignorant prophecy and become one.