Dear World,

Please Kill Me,

*Fingers snap and lights dim, as a man approaches the dark stage*

Obviously, I’m being dramatic for effect. With the recent rumblings of the world, I felt it was a time to circumvent the bullshit and get right to the creative take of aforementioned bullshit. So without further adieu- The Drummer.

 

The Drummer

May we please make room for the Drummer?

His incessant banging clings to souls,

deftly maneuvering options.

We watch him with awe and a tad of envy

Our leers go unnoticed as he scours the rhythm.

May we please make room for the Drummer?

What has become of us? Hatred in a dream

We don’t harbor the passion,

Life lost, every death is a calling for action

Criticism, reactive.

May we please make room for the Drummer?

They come for him at a steadier pace than he,

Knows not of his imminent faults.

Unaware of the war, nor it’s heinous results

The notes he strums, recurring as his energy sulks.

May we please make room for the Drummer!

He cares not of death, only the pulse of it.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Forgive him preacher, he knew not what he did.

Another piece of fertilizer. Now, we’re burying kids?

So may we please make room for the Drummer?

– Without a wise ass remark,

Antwan Crump.