Between the Sword and the Wall
Between the Sword and the Wall
Nobody likes to be between
the sword and the wall.
When you're in that trance
life tastes like vinegar.
When you knock on a door
your ass opens.
If you scream for help
its sharp blades answer,
fragments forming
an unspeakable monster.
You're alive and you're dead,
you're awake and dreaming.
You look at your opponent,
who is the guardian of your balance,
beg him not to weigh you
but he puts you on his plate.
Your heart and gut, dust and horror.
While the sky shines, your picture
darkens. The wall closes
like theatre curtains.
Your Act is over.
The drinks are on me.
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