A Bullet Scar

It was deja vu at play, prancing on reality. When the sun came down, it seemed as though there was a familiar tint that always caught him off-guard! It was not to be. The road was far beyond the vision of night. The ride not as near as one would hope. There was yet a glimmering streak that fizzled in the corner of one eye. The smoke lay bare on the ground while the mist rode over. He straddled over to the odour of orbit trying to grasp at the last ozone dew. It was too drab to realize that the only thing worth its shine was a blade of chroma. Unto the dearth of space he breezed but lingered close to dear earth.

In the midst of thoughts that spun straight through the heart, there was always the tear of laughter and wild anticipation. This in itself lent more than the bargain. Blazing with ice, tepid in the floating torpedo of self righteousness, it marked the bravely sewn display. The deepest and roughest scar from a bullet, not withstanding!