Chelsea’s fantasy was to get raped
Buddy only felt sane when he was at war
Joe knew at some point he would get caught
Mary was whiter than the driven snow
Chelsea’s fantasy was getting stronger
Buddy just hated civilian life
Joe was stalking his next victim
Mary was in chapel confessing dark thoughts
Chelsea had made up her mind
Buddy walked the streets, anger building up inside him
Joe lay in the shadows
Mary couldn’t understand her dark thoughts, being so devout
Chelsea knew the time had come
Joe made his move
Buddy saw what was happening
Mary prayed on the cross
Chelsea felt the grip release
Joe pulled out a knife
Buddy disarmed him, knocking him down
Mary spoke to God begging forgiveness
Chelsea pulled out a gun and shot Buddy
Joe began to rise
Buddy slowly bled to death
Mary sat in the confessional box, confessing to murdering two men.
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2025 04:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments3
Divergent paths bit by bit converge in this wonderful write of puzzle making. Loved the short lines that like small pieces fit in the end. Well done and a fave
The puzzle of Mary and Chelsea being one entity sets it off.
Well written, your poem explores themes of violence, morality, and the complexities of human psychology. It delves into dark fantasies, the impact of war on the psyche, and the consequences of actions driven by inner turmoil and desperation.
Like watching the telly on a dark night.
Paul, this unfolds like a moral autopsy—each stanza a heartbeat fading into silence. Brutal in truth, poetic in precision. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
To think they all walk the same streets.
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