GUNSMOKE

Bullets are the skeleton key to a deadbolted door, however
We've convinced ourselves through a blind mantra of what if's and
How 'bout's…
That once the door swings open, misery will be left outside, shivering
On a welcome mat stained with the crimson red of the
Too damn close, too damn many times
SHUT THE FUCKIN DOOR.
PUT AWAY THAT KEY CHAIN OF BALLISTIC RATTLE.
And return to your shabby confines and…
Wait for the inevitable
The unavoidable
THE
END.