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Twilight Zone

I’ve always wondered what would happen
if I drew back the red curtain
would there really be a stage for me
to embrace and be myself
or would it just be a wall
rusty red and falling apart

but that’s another story to be told some day
when the last thing you care to know
is how the messenger had been cheated

there are no bullets to be found anywhere
but the gun is still warm
talk is cheap but there is plenty of it
perpetuating rumors of manslaughter

police helicopters pretend to be beacons
but night is already day and they are useless
easy targets for anyone from the madhouse
to take them down one by one





june two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Author’s Note:
This poem is loosely based on the
song of the same name by Golden Earring