Thy Shrill Thrill Of The Emancipated Hunt. Poem by Michael Gale

The shrill, thrill of the hard learned thrill...
Ironed of stiffened and strengthened will.

How now, might i seal the deal? ...
Whom, will i be selected to kill?

Will, i, in turn, be forced, to get behind the steering wheel? ...
Will i, then, in turn, have my total fill?

Will i, at last, get fed up? ...
Will i, in long time, end up in the gutter, holding
tightly upon thy pencil filled, tin cup?

Will, i end up in jail or in prison, on death row? ...
Will i, before, learn wisely and then know?

Which course, i must travel down? ...
So for, now on, I'll not have to be forced to wear a frown-
Upon, thy tempted face.

What a low down, rotten, disgrace?