The Reaper

I can’t smoke these cigarettes fast enough
They’re killing me too slowly
And all the city lights that are passing us
Paint a picture somewhat holy
Somewhat not, a mix of saint and sinner
Tonight, the Devil walks among us
I broke bread with him at dinner
The sound of sirens somewhere fill the air
Ringing out like a singing choir of angels
I’m so tired of this song
After a while, even angelic voices get annoying
I put my head down
I’m tired of it all—it’d be nice if I could go to bed now
But there’s work to do
I always get the graveyard shifts
And you can bet I work the weekends, too
These days, I find myself contending
That this life would be infinitely better
If it would fucking end
Is this a “be careful what you wish for” story?
Is that why this guy’s gun’s against my head?
We’re face to face
His eyes tell me that he’s got nothing left to lose
I scream, "Fucking do it!”
Finger on the trigger, then he goes ahead and pulls it
In a second, it’s all laughs between the two of us
I rest my head against the glass and take a breath
As the laughter dies, the reflection in the mirror shrugs
“It’s too bad you can’t kill Death”

https://oc.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jammv/feelin_yella_in_philadelphia_or_is_it_blue_lost/d35d6kx https://oc.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4j8bwq/blessed/d35dopo