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Hutch angst.
How can you love me?
I am all the things you dislike.
I am the one who turns his face
from the reality of death and
the sad, sad state of the life that
speaks of death and nothing else.
I am the one who cries for justice
and wields the death of a magnum’s
bullet to the head, a justice that
has no alternative or margin of error,
and sees no mitigating circumstance
to change its final gavel fall.
Such hypocritical words I spout
and claim to live by, when obviously
I am not the man I represent myself to be,
a spirit full of honor and die-hard
values that always chooses for life,
even as I kill those who threaten you and me.
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