BEFORE THE BATTLE

There’s a battle waiting for the spark to light it

The guys in charge are holding back, waiting

For something. Me? I’m super-charged, wound tightly

Like a tiger, about to spring. Do we have some time free?

Let me write a poem! About? A sense of freedom, adventure

Society’s rules don’t apply here. Do they? Rules of politeness

To your betters, the elected (pompous twits); family traditions 

are laid bare; when you are facing death. So, for the moment

Let my imagination run wild. Splattered in blood, I emerge

A killer; so many dead; feelings? So many; I feel my own blood

Coursing through my veins, my heartbeat so loud (turn it down please)

What’s that line from Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, “Mama, just killed a man”

“Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, nows he’s dead”

A minute ago. He lived; no more; gone into eternity. Is eternity dark

As night? If society's rules do not apply here, are there any security 

or safeguards for me? Can I step forward, put my hands up and say 

“I’m sorry, I apologise?” Probably not. There’s a battle coming.

It’s going to be a test. A poem? The poem? No bloody poem

I’m scared, I’m terrified. Maybe, if I survive, I’ll write something

“Mama, just killed a man” I feel an overwhelming sense of futility

Is that in the manual?

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