I look out, and see them just standing there, not speaking, accusing, tormenting.
The bag with the money, and the gun lies on the bed.
The reason and the reason. My head starts pounding.
They are still there.
The peal grows louder.
Only option – apology.
Break. Window. Jump.
I am amazed how poems can convey so much in so little a words.
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Gave me goosebumps!
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amazing post
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That was a loaded gun. Awesome. 🙂
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