She sits, thinking about
her life's mistakes
thoughts cross her head
morbid and painful
sorrowful and scared
she stands, gun in hand,
aims, breathes, fires,
and hits a light across the room,
sparks flying
and with a feral look in her eyes
she throws her head back and screams
hurling her gun through a broken window;
almost as broken as her heart
she collapses, sobbing uncontrollably
and curls into a pathetic heap,
staying that way for hours on end.
Sometime the next day
she finds the strength to stand,
and as she rises ever doubt
every worry and every pain
she had once felt slips to the floor
as she walks away from it
-
Author:
Rose (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 30th, 2017 19:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments1
WELCOME ROSE ~ Thanks for a very powerful first poem. In my experience ~ "Where you point the GUN before you pull the trigger ~ makes all the difference between Life & Death ~ AMEN" Incidently just pulling the trigger ~ and shattering the TV ~ like ELVIS used to do ~ is very very cathartic ! Thanks for sharing ~ more please ~ Yours BRIAN ~ UK
Thank you😊 Your feed back means a lot
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