Fight or Flight


As he lay there dying his
eyes ricochet from,
the skid mark on his
stomach to the,
bloody stump were his
hand once resided
before coming
to rest
on me.

I wish I had an answer,
for the questions
behind those eyes.
I wish I could offer comforts,
to ease your bloody tears.
Instead I back away slowly,
thankful for the solitude
this lonely rode provides.

I grab another bottle from
the passenger, unscrewing it
As I pull off.
Eager to make this moment
yet another drowned
memory in the stormy
seas of my mind.

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