Tricide

A room, a bed, a ceiling fan. A bloody wrist, a crying face, an expectation. A noose, a boy, a knocked over chair. A temporary problem, a permanent solution, a permanent tragedy. A dark night, a empty soul, a broken heart. A new morning, a still world, a silent forest. A crying mother, a shamed father, a confused brother. A cold truth, a shocked school, an empty friend. A tear of sorrow, a regret, another bloody wrist. A wake, a guilty man, a deep shameful curse. A newspaper, a reporter, a private family matter. A question, a lack of answer, a wreck. A run, a group, a memory. A classroom, a silent lesson, an empty seat. A paper, a denial, an understanding. A Saturday, a packed church, a funeral. An open coffin, a dozen roses, a still body. A song, a tear, a unfulfilled kiss. A homily, a condemnation, a guilty pastor. A procession, a dying friend, a hearse. A cemetery, a raindrop, a baptism. A shovel, a empty yard, an abandoned friend. The earth, the torn dirt, an empty hole. A mourning, a scream, a collapse. A descent, a lack of faith, an angry God. A pen, a paper, a single sentence. A burial, a shroud, a trial by fire. A finished deed, an unsatisfaction, a sunset. A lack of sleep, a break in silence, a broken heart. A car, a road, an uncertain future. A wish, a ghost, a sign. A broken man, a decade wasted, a new slate. A mother, a father, a family. A happy room, an unknown truth, a silent soul. A Room, a bed a ceiling fan. A bloody wrist, a crying face, an expectation. A noose, a boy, a knocked over chair. A temporary problem, a permanent solution, a permanent tragedy.

 

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