Counting Cars

Counting Cars



Hate is a funny thing, is it not?

It has its way of perverting reality and turning circumstance into a clever joke.

Although laughter usually doesn't follow after a fatal shot.

Can you hear the giggle, as I try to swallow too much and choke?

We are all just characters, our tragedies set to thicken the plot.


You see, Satan is a comedian above all else.

He loves to sit back with a sick grin and a six pack and enjoy the show in stealth.

He knows he could never join in but he cares none the less.

What he can't have he destroys.

He claws at your sanity until there's nothing left.


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Did that guy just say something about me?

Or am I going mad?

Should I confront him or perhaps just leave?

Oh, but then I hear the whisper.

"Of course he is, you imbecile! Don't be so damn naive!"

Do I embrace this shadow,

or cling to the fading light?

If I correct this alleged injustice and I'm wrong,

how will I sleep tonight?


The voice it whispers again but this time closer to a yell.


"This is the guy that you saw with her the other day. Don't just stand there son, it is time to act!

I would never mislead you,

am I yet to betray our pact?"


At these words of wisdom, my anger kicks into full gear,

full of liquor and resentment, my inhibitions have no time to react.

My mind speaks a farewell and my face holds a jeer.


With one smooth motion, I pull the pistol that I had concealed.

I squint my eyes and aim..

my finger aching for death to be revealed.


"Goodbye you son of a bitch, you've got yourself to blame!"


He looks up at me startled.

He's struck with surprise.

I carry on my execution,

uninterested in his lies.


The bullet, it screams GUILTY as it passes through the air.

I realize what I've done and think to stop,

but the bloodstain is already there...



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Now several months later, I regret laying that poor bastard to rest.

Dearly do I miss my girl and severely miss my mother.

I tried to explain my innocence, confusion had put a bullet in his chest

If only she would have been a bit clearer that this gentleman was her brother.

I knew as soon as the smoke cleared that God was not impressed.

This is my payment for ignoring His voice and embracing the other.


I should have studied more for this final test.

But, looking out of these windows I don't really feel betrayed.

Lucifer was true to his word. Of all the views in this asylum, I surely have the best.


With my arms wrapped in front of me and surrounded by padded walls,

I don't have to depend on an angel,

and that is best of all.

I look for no winged savior,

to catch me when I fall.

It is a good thing because for me I'm sure there is no mercy left,

except the simple joy of counting the cars as they pass.

I know I'll never get out of here so I don't even try..



I count the cars aloud.

I'll count them till I die.