Sunday wordle: Doing nothing

Raindrops streaming down windows
fingers tracing a line
doing nothing
Slinking into the shadows
away from the fray
being idle, watching the rain
nothing to do, or say
no need to try
everything just is something
you’re not dazzled
like a moth
with all those blinding lights
glaring back from the sheen on the streets
like foxes eyes
the night a predator
sharp and free
but you won’t be the prey
in which it seeks

Drafted

Wired by the violence
That mars our existence
Your face is stormy silence
Drafted into this war
Dragging guilt through the sands
Of the desert
Dry lips
Grenade in your belt at the hips
Shrapnel
It’s a gamble
As you grapple
Life at the end of a barrel
Keep your eyes on the medal
Framed on the mantel
One wrong move
Watch your manner
You don’t know who might wield the hammer
Eyes wide
Never closed
Can’t afford to be a star after death
You want that cigar at the end
Clenched between your teeth
Instead of bullets.