Staring at his wall,
a picture paints itself.
Splattered brains
and drying blood
forms a mural
of his wasted life.
Listening to the silence,
he hears a song.
Screams of anger
fill the air
as words of angst
slowly puncture through
to leave their mark
as his last words.
Someone knocks at his door,
begging for it to open.
A gunshot sounds,
ending all that once was;
the silence, the lies, the screams.
It's like suicide.
Hit me with the truth, the awful truth
Comments
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wow
man... heavy. good heavy. sadly I can relate somewhat as I was, for a few years, at a point in my life when I contemplated such a fate for myself.... thankfully, I am well past that :-) I really like your writing. Very talented! I can't wait to read more. Keep it comin!
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