Badasses

The old bastards,

retired killers,

photo by hungrybison

tamed outlaws,

they once rode with Uylsses.

They were once “quick drawin’ mother fuckers “,

Badasses.

Now scarred and aged,

they drink.

Their swagger was slowed,

they have ceased to drift.

They never found El Dorado.

In age they found comfort in home.

Many of their like never grew old,

they lay across this country

in unvisited graves.

Their children inhabit

the heartland, the cities.

They have become the new generation of badasses.

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Filed under creative writing, micro stories, original photography, original writing, Short stories and essays

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