Deep Pressed

The stars mark
their target
as the armies
mark their planet
but generals
before you win or lose
your war
spare some bullets
for the ones
who are kind enough
to need it the most

become the pied piper
and lead forward by
playing the real tune
when the bells ring
at the wrong hour
of misfortune

spare some bullets
for those
who are kind enough
to need it the most

deep pressed
with their
black charred souls
grinding down low
and slashing some throats or
letting lose the rope
to hang themselves
by the threads
of the same joke

climbing high
breaking all the
loose strands
of the stress
wounds try to redress
but torn up afresh
tuning up further on
their degrees of distress

spare a few bullets
for the ragged
endless battles
lost and won
and lost again
over and over again
because they cant
get out of their
own heads