“So who’s gonna die today?”
I look down at my feet as the roulette wheel spins around and around again. Never ending. Maybe that what I feel because that’s what I want, for time to stop, no… rewind.
“Red 13!”
The man next to me drops dead, falling into the hands of the old widow, then finally finds his place between between her stilettos and the young boys cleats. Everyone is stoned f...
Boom
They stand all huddled by the door
As he steps forward inspecting the crowd
Boom
Another collapses to the floor
They all try there best to not make a sound
The goal is to not make your self a target
The goal is to survive
But one stands far from it
As the two lock eyes
He points the barrel at you
Beckoning you to stand
It is only the two
As she takes his hand
(Sorry if this doesn’t make ...
This is a short poem I wrote a while back that I thought would fit this prompt.
The mirror displays my flaws for the world to see, the filthy stained mirror that I see clean.
Our minds forced into our own thoughts of self pity staring into the cloudy mirror that I see clean.
The line between critiques and moarning is fogged by the mirror I see clean....
I was lost.
Never found
It said to me “the lost seek to be found but never venture to find”
It left me here not to be found but to find
I get up
I walk
I walk
I walk
I find one that wait to be found and tell it “the lost seek to be found but never venture to find”
It gets up
I walk
It walks
It walks
We find ones that wait to be found and tell them “the lost seek to be found but never venture to f...
I was 3 when my mother died so I don’t remember much about her except that before she passed she told me that she would still be with me while I slept and not to worry. After that I would stay up all night talking to the moon as if it was my mom and I liked to think that it was. After about a month or two father wanted to move on and start a new life and for him that was running away from the prob...
He’s here.
“I’m not ready”
I faintly mutter. I don’t think I ever will be. I grip dads hand tighter as if death would have to physically pull me down through the hospital floor to get me to get me.
“I know honey, I love you”
he spits out through his tears. I let go and stare at him with a slight grin as I lay on the bed waiting for the inevitable.
A cool breeze gusts through the room ...
A Interpretive poem by J.R. DeHaan
The crimson display of decay blossoms while the sun rises revealing the crude world that swallows the souls
Ruby blends with the fall
Soil is the birth of this evil that hides the cruel piece of art
The chilled body lays on that frozen soil and waits to become someone’s muse
A painting shows the wicked nature of what we call society
The last of society is a p...