Dear Mama,
I came in with high hopes
now I live in the lowest depths.
I have consorted with devils in khaki and flags.
A strong fraternity
the tinge of electricity
but we would be hunters of men.
Brown men they told me, the lowest of low.
The first pull of the trigger broke my resolve.
Goads and cheers filled my ears while tears filled my eyes, pools of my lightning regret.
Mama forgive me, I have sinned.
I took a life that day I can never return.
I stole his soul on a steady diet of Coors Light and xenophobia.
And now
I sleep with these wolves in our den of false patriotism
hands still dirty from the shoddy burial on this arid land.
I look at these hands in the fire light and pray I don't become a wolf myself
If it's not already too late.
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