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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #970757
Dark poetry
The future looks so bleak,
My tired bones are getting weak.
How long can I stand on my own,
How often will I leave myself prone?

What is there left for me now,
What did I leave behind in that town?
Could it have been real,
Could I have begun to feel?

The questions burn in my mind,
The answers are impossible to find.
So I seek my escape the only way I can,
The pistol feels heavy in my hand.

Time on the clock ticks away,
I know that for my crimes I must pay.
Remembering hurts now more than before,
The pain seeps its way deep into my core.

Looking within myself I see my fear,
Yet knowing my weakness I still can’t shed a tear.
I am a cold shell, empty and hollow,
I hope the footsteps I left no one will follow.

The release I want will be a single shot,
I can finally turn my back on all I sought.
Slowly I pull the gun to my temple,
And slowly the whole world seems to ripple.

In the moment before the hammer explodes,
In the moment before my eyes close,
I see it all so clearly at last,
Slowly I fade into the past.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/970757-The-Future