A Battle Zone of His Own Making
Kerpow!
He now lives in a battle zone of his own making.
Where truth and lies collide: the air thick with dread, fear, old Fox Ladies
Shaking.
The storm he unleashed, with words sharp and raking:
Vermin!
The ground beneath him crumbling,
Soaked in red, his brain on Adderall baking.
But in this self-made tempest, the tiny man will crawl.
Not brought down by bullets, but by the
Ballot-ax he’ll fall.
As history watches with an
Iron gaze.
He lives now in the echoes of his own sick refrains:
A legacy of violence,
Soaked in pain, and
All this precious time we’ve wasted.
On an ancient toddler with a convicted rapist’s
Diseased-brain.
Kerpow!
hillpoet56
Gene Scott grew up on an Illinois tenant farm where kitchen-table tales mixed magic with hog farms and strip mines. After 40 years in East Tennessee, he’s witnessed nature’s raw power—and its quiet grace to heal what’s broken.