Relentlessly chasing me
Through a rusty junkyard
Full of
Broken things
Like me.
Hiding behind a discarded
Black tire,
Hoping you won’t find me
With that old, reliable
Gun that you keep
Hidden in the closet
As if nobody knows
It’s there.
My breath quickens.
You have found me.
You grab me by my collar.
“Why won’t you love me?”
You ask
Again,
And again,
And again.
“Because,” I reply,
“You are unlovable.”
Aggressive power and sadness
Is written on his face
As the gun is pointed at me.
A shot rings.
The gun backfires,
Killing the killer.
The old, reliable
Gun has killed
The unreliable
Monster
Who enters my dreams
Without permission.
I am left alone,
With the memories,
In the rusty junkyard,
Among the broken things,
Like me.