It was yet another
slow winter’s day.
The streets were empty,
the city deep in slumber.
He sat in his threadbare chair,
staring through the frosted glass
memories reflected in his eyes
the clock ticking.
The ghosts whisper in his ears,
fiery skies beneath his eyelids.
It was a fresh dawn,
soft light illuminating the fallen.
The gun cracks,
the bullet flies,
another body falls onto hard ground.
In the safety of his home,
he cannot outlive the horrors.
All the shiny badges
won’t erase the memories.
It haunts him
even now.