For the Fallen

Sometimes assassinations are not carried by silent bullets guided by crosshairs
Sometimes the blade does not touch the body.
Sometimes the rope doesn't hang;
It waits like unemployed ropes do
Without a purpose; ready to be pulled into something else.
Two too many times pass. No peace.
No understanding.
4.5 hours
11 screams
3 days
And the next times that keep arriving like tomorrows
Rip a bit more at the soul
Every        time

Brix and Mortar

Pressing Pause on the Principalship