Put your hands where I can see them.
You are soaking, out of breath.
I can tell that you’ve been racing,
On gas, there’s nothing left.
Put them up, out of your pockets.
Were you going for a gun?
It’s so hard to see intention
In someone always on the run.
Is it fear?
Anticipation?
That has you quacking
At the knees.
I can see the desperation.
What are you trying to appease?
Say it loud,
You’re speaking softly.
All your answers,
I can’t hear.
If I just wanted explanation,
Well I wouldn’t have come here.
Put your back against the mortar.
I don’t trust you not to run.
If someone does the shooting,
It’s my finger on the gun.
Can’t you tell?
I’ve finally won.
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