Trust Poem by Greg Perlman

Before now never is
And then has come to be

Face to face in a party
Racially charged anger
Born of childhood insecurity
And a fading dream for the glory of murder
For the icy thrill of placing another in the ground
Just to feel a little less dead

Music holds with what?
The loaded pistol of nightly pain
Of meandering children
In bodies pale
And hair grey
When the owl crows
And the crow lies low
You read this and give it structure

This poem is reality! ! !