Black Sheep

My head starts to spin; I barely can open my eyes—

My thoughts are calm, the usual, but my hands shake

I think that tonight I am afraid (of how my heart may ache).

Pick me off these streets and burn the reciprocity of my lies.

Burn it into my brain, make sure that you cut deep—

Build a perfect solider from this black sheep.

And let the fight be clean, for one shot at fame

I’ll kill my brother—bloodlust ears hear no names.

Cut my hand and let me bleed on a stage,

Take my identity, tear it and hear me wine;

Tonight I’m not me—tonight I am blind,

I am but a sheep, stuck in a simple cage.

Free, free, free—free once upon a time.

       DannYetman

www.yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com