You shot me, execution style but in the heart, not the head. Drowning in my blood - did you smile?
Was it your intention to build me up and then slaughter me? Because, boy, I have to say you're pretty damn good.
And I wonder how many skeletons hide in your closet, gathering dust as my bones mold over, a memory or a trophy - which is it, to you?
The willing victim, I should have known but I guess I'm just not the gangster like you. I knelt down, thinking I was offering you my heart; Never knowing, good god, never knowing
You had your pistol c0cked and ready.
May the gunpower of your deceit stain your delicate fingers, blackest of pitch like your soul.
Ooooh, dark and very powerful! And I love the picture you have with it! And what's with the cencors? Just kidding. :) Great poem, and great job! :D
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"Our mothers and fathers held us close to their hearts and they promised 'One bright and shining day my children, we will triumph in battle. One bright and shining day my children, we will give you back your wings.' " - PL: S&W
Not a problem at all! :) I glad you (somewhat) fixed it. :D
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"Our mothers and fathers held us close to their hearts and they promised 'One bright and shining day my children, we will triumph in battle. One bright and shining day my children, we will give you back your wings.' " - PL: S&W
