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THE BULLET FLEW TWICE OVER
“I love reading the news, but it must be true—something rare in a world where truth is elusive. What does truth mean? Does it have boundaries? Can it exist always, yet shift in different realities? For lawyers, truth is a weapon and a shield, wielded in the arena of reason and evidence. But truth, in its rawest form, is neither kind nor forgiving. The weight of violence lingers long after the shot is fired, staining the soul with echoes of what ca
The bullet flew twice, breaking the skies,
Its path unseen by blinded eyes.
A rival fell where silence reigned,
While shadows deepened, truth remained.
“You sought the stars, the fated lore,
Yet darkness claimed you evermore.
Through fields of rage, through endless pain,
You chased the heavens but found disdain.”
The bullet’s song, a mournful sound,
Its echoes haunt the hollowed ground.
A whisper crawls through bloodied air,
Who bears the blame? Who dares declare?
A single voice, a trembling cry,
“Yes, I – yes, I, and none but I.”
The bridges burn, the rivers dry,
Yet no redemption meets the eye.
What is the cost of justice’ name?
A fleeting truth, a lasting shame.
The Pegasus rides through storms of wrath,
But leaves no light along its path.
The bullet flew twice, and still it flies,
Through fractured hearts, through silent skies.
For truth may burn, or truth may heal,
Yet its wounds remain, forever real.