http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/series/explorer
/3109/Overview
Death by Ridicule
There's shotgun blasts tearing through my soul
Ripping out the heart and leaving a jagged, oozing hole
Riddle and rippled, jarred, roaring lightening blast
Firing through and through, hitting hard and racing fast.
Standing all alone facing the squad of certain death
Staring unblinded, breathing what is my last breath
Watching the Wicked snarl in vicious, gleeful grins
Laughing out loud as their voices fire and fire again.
Hanging, dangling by thoughts of what was meant to be
Swinging by the threads that once held pieces of me
Now look upon the shooters and see if you are there
I just don't have the time because--
who would even care?
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1238 times
Written on 2010-07-30 at 06:02
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Kshiti Dubey |
Phyllis J. Rhodes |
Damon |
shells |
Rob Graber |
sana |
NicholasG |