🐈‍⬛. The Rooster 🐈‍⬛. Poem by James McLain

Do your eyes burn yellow from the sweat?
The stinging thorn of love won't soon forget.
Circled gardens, dreams, seems every path
leads back to where you are, from whence I came.

Maintained wife and playboy kids, facebook pets.
Saving men to bleed on foreign lands.
Being born, before I came, was no safe bet.
Overhead a bullet talking, whispers someone else's name.

Here they come to give us more not less.
Hear I am, that rooster Dennis came to kill.
And he has sown and he has sown, enough.