Crime Poetry: Run by F.M. Nighwell

They’re watching your every move,
You better run.
You’re losing moonlight and they need you so they will look good.
They’ll slide you in for a quarter century in the quota machine.
The machine will grind you up and spit you out.
You are not special. You are one piece of carbon out of some 7 billion.
You better run.
They’ve fired up their tools and loaded up their weapons of mass murder.
The street is bleeding in their trail of blues.
You better run.
crime poetry
Remember when you were a child and this was fun?
It’s not what you’ve done. It’s where you’re heading.

You better run, run, they’re rolling up on you with flat faces and guns.

Crime Poetry
F.M. Nighwell