they take the pound of flesh.
they leave you with the bloody scab.
these are the days of the lion hearted.
these are the days of the meek mice.
they run us long.
they run us hard.
our burning throats.
our heaving lungs.
the whip cracks.
splitting skin.
the heaven’s weep.
the wet rain falls.
these are the days of jackal men.
these are the days of carrion corporations.
these are the people with broken backs.
these are their children’s red rimmed eyes.
the flesh is gone.
whittled to white bone.
the skin is chaffed.
but a hide of worn leather.
and the soul yearns on.
burns on.
the warrior stands and steadies his quiver.
the bow bends taught.
sprung to fight.
a release of the quarrel.
justice takes flight.