Friday, January 15, 2010

The Chattering

Dead man walking
That's what some call guys like me
Trudging the long corridor
Face lined with defeat

The bleak gray-painted walls
The sick chemical smell
My stomach is queasy
My heart feels unwell

I sit in the anteroom
With a guard in light blue
Behind the wall there's a chair
Where it happens to you

I can hear the whirring sounds
They're testing it now
On some other poor patient
Who whimpers aloud

And I hear them sucking
Stuff out of his maw
Mixed spit, blood and bits
Chipped from his jaw

Another guard appears
Smiling like it's a game
Her perfect white teeth
Flash as she says my name

Clipboard at ready
She checks my blood pressure
Shoots rays in my face
Takes wicked pleasure

Then the man with bulging arms
Muscle built up
Holding down little kids
Who squirm too much

He draws out his needle
He readies his potion
He plans to stick it in me
In one painful motion

It's in moments like these
That a man has a choice
He can sit there and take it
Or use action as voice

Here's where history
Divides boys from the men
Some willingly suffer
Some fight to win

Freedom is worth it
It's the only true wealth
So I steel up the courage
And I brace myself

Liberty! Liberty!
How joyous art thou!
This is my moment
It's never or now

The syringe inches closer
Life's slowing down
I can live as hero
Or die as a clown

I'll win or I'll lose
The thought makes me sober
A quick kick to the stomach
And the dentist keels over

Now it's just the guards
Hygienists they're called
Such a sanitized word
For the terror involved

I jump and I dodge
They'll never nab me
The one class I passed
Was eighth-grade PE

My shoes click on the tiles
I'm a bat from grim hell
As I courageously flee
See ya! Farewell!

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