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March 5, 2019

I stand there

In deep, dark confusion.

With one step never taken

And three never to be spoke.

 

An evil laugh has started as

Black faced clouds taunted the

Dimming sun back into

Hiding.

 

They speak to me in the form of the wind,

Chilling me to mere hesitation.

Yet I choose to glue my bullets

Into the chamber of my weapon.

 

Green and cold grass turns

Greener and colder… as they

Morph into snakes, brushing against my leg

Urging me to run back inside.

 

I stand there

In deep, dark judgement

Not knowing whether to stand up and speak

Or cave and listen.

 

Bullets fly in the form of words

Directly from my mouth, into the weapon, and straight to

My victim. Hours later

She was hit.

 

I chose to speak.

Knees collide with the ground. Non existent thunder

Booms in response to rain and lightning that

Never lived.

 

My victim of course prospered as I

Was ripped apart by

The dark pit

That grew within me.

 

She came to me,

And ripped the bullet from her heart

To show that on top of my means was

A blue and white guardian glistening with sparkles.

 

The guardian danced

And the guardian flew.

The guardian took shape of an

Angel.

 

I was lost in the world and still am.

The world is mostly dark,

But to this day, I am only ok

In times seen through that angel.

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