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Bang


Blood dripped down the knife. Tears fall down his face. He stood there staring. Her arms bloody. The knife drops to the ground. She slumps against the wall. He kneels beside her. All he cloud do was hold her. More than five times he did this. More than five times he watched her. He could not stop her from cutting. All he could do was stop her from dying. In the bath he dragged her into it. Her arms stinging from the heat of the water, No tears fell from her eyes. She is in her blank mode. He loves her yet he cannot stop her. He leaves and finds the gun. She lays there in the tub eyes closed. Bang—the gun goes. She is dead. He points the gun at himself. Bang.
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DrippingFingers

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Comments (1)

DrippingFingers
This poems is for those that a have a problem with cutting. Hopefully this will open your eyes that what you do effects those that you love.

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