No. 13

Brandon Crooms

11 Apr, 2016 11:44 PM
I had started to lose count.
"Goodbye, Mr. Blount."
My hands tightly grip the ax,
I took aim at his bloodied back.
Fury covers my eyes with blood, "Can I do this?" I could, I could, I could.
"One more swing," I say. "I hope to God you'll pray."
I bring it down fast...
This will be the last...
The hit was clean.
...and that made 13.'
Next Poem >>


Post a Comment
No comments yet! Be the first
Your Comment

Do not post other site's link, it will be considered as spam