poetry corner 007 – high caliber round

You can work in phases like the moon.
Or you can be a movement like the sun.

A circle, encircled.

You can whistle along to someone else’s tune.
Staring down the barrel of a gun.

Around, a round.

You can walk and talk ’til you’re lined in chalk.
When nothing at all could be done.

Legion lost; allegiance found.

You can bob, and weave; rinse & repeat.
Only phasers are set to stun.

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