Coytoe

scarred moons follow me home

watchful eyes move with me as I walk

when everything is quiet I can finally hear the noise

a million miles away someone else is looking at me

prayers for the passing of another season

the man on the TV said he’s ready to give us a reason

living can become such a routine

boxed inside a box

shipped from city to scene

burning to do what needs to be done

decisions hidden behind fear of the outcome

howling at the moon seems the only way to cope

maybe someone will hear and throw me a rope