Born and raised on rainy days. No chance. No space. He waits. He plays. He
Knows the rules, keeps his disguise — he dips his head to bigger guys.
He’ll save his knives for midnight when lights are out and mice play
Perfumed statues in the doorways, kissing air and winking good times for a
Price. He’ll hang out with the smaller guys and pounce… could never stand
A man who’s not a man; whose hands aren’t strong enough to strangle; legs
Aren’t hard enough to kick; whose heads are made for flying bricks. He
Leaves them dead, his trousers wet, but he keeps his mask in place — it’s
The only way to keep respect. To stay alive, to live a lie. Night after
Night. Keep your mask in place.
