scold him for walking uninvited into my home.
I empty the pockets
of his worn out coat
and the happiness of a city,
scatters across my kitchen's floor.
"Aren't you ashamed?
You steal our dreams,
our long awaited goals,
the hope, the memories,
the fleeting I love you's,
and a newborn's first yawn.
Give it back to the people!
That's not what they had planned at all!"
He's old and weary, yet he smiles,
words form in a soft tone,
a total contrast to my screaming voice.
"Oh, but I am a servant of Time,
I can't bring back what's lost,
some dreams are meant to be stolen,
they're too grand to come true."
He twitches when he sees my gun,
a little revolver I load and aim to my skull.
"My dreams are mine you can't steal them tonight,
I'm not a puppet in your parade,
I'll not be driven by your strings and galore,
It's my life and I choose to defy!"
It doesn't even hurt when my blood spatters to the floor.