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Gunpowder Residue, Scars Anew

Short story By: skilletgirl2
Poetry


A man's decisions lead him to a ride through hell. This is the longest poem I have ever written!


Submitted:Aug 3, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


Gunpowder Residue, Scars Anew

Gunpowder residue,

Scars anew

Pointed at chests

Threatening to lay to rest

Tick tock,

Time passes slowly

Tensions rise rapidly

Blames being berated

Guilt grazes on goodness

Gunpowder residue will spew,

Leaving fresh, painful scars anew

FBI scream

To come out of a

Physiological fantasy

A tormented mind's

Peaceful, perfected dream

The criminal doesn't

Perceive the message

And sticky, crimson blood

Is ruthlessly shed

He drops to his knees

To the dry, dusty earth

His joints like lead

Realizing this punishment

Was not what his enemy deserved

No, he raves

That man has earned

Chastisement much worse

His wounds spill out

The unsub shouts

With a childish pout

Don't bother with
Federal imprisonment

Its cold, cruel barricades

To me, are like maternal accolades

The hell it holds

Is not sufficient

I have learned what

It means to be burned

I have undermined

And defined

The vicious, deathly definition

Of true hatred and forgiveness

I have left this man's family

And will leave mine

A tragical mess

And because of

The gunpowder residue

And my heart's scars anew

I will put my soul to rest

He lodges the pistol

Suppressing the emotional toll

Under his chin

And pulls the trigger

Letting the tension and tears linger

With the officers

He leaves his final statement

"Sometimes its alright

To say goodbye"

He topples backward

Dismissing emotional mirth

For a moment

His life flashes in front

Of dark, dilated eyes

In a brief second

He hears angels cry

His head hits the ground

But he feels no pain

This hurting brother

Is already in the clouds

In a bright flash

He's waiting in line

Watching for St. Peter's sign

To go in the gates

Where love delegates

But dread fills his heart

He sits on the air

And begins to weep

Guilt and depression

Begin to seep in

He begs on his knees

At the saint's feet

"No, please!

Just a small favor

I plead you,

Relay to my daughter

This from her father

Justice is served

To the man who

Raped and killed her"

Sadness in his eyes

St. Peter replies

"My son,

She does not remember . . .

Safety and love reigns in her

In His daughter,

Peace abides
And she no longer cries"

Just before he

Thanks St. Peter

Two huge cherubs

Come to escort him

They take him by the shoulders

And guide him to the carriage

Blacker than conceivable

He was lifted to the bench

And an unknown force

Pinned him down

Suddenly, it was harder to breathe now

A heat scalded his face

Hot enough,
He thought,

To lacerate his skin

The feeling was comparable

To his flesh barbecuing

On hot aluminum metal

He screamed aloud

It was as if he was

Being cremated alive

He wrestled with the force

That restrained him

Trying to break away

The air smelled of sulfur

And stung his still-pumping lungs

Everything felt of acid

Hot and dangerous and radioactive

The driver laughed at him

Through his black, thick hood

"It's really too bad

You never understood"

"You don't know my life"

He hotly replied

Then recalling his mistakes

He was grief-stricken

And let out a cry

"My son,
Both Heaven and Hell

Saw your days go by

And in your last few moments

Its what Heaven despised."

"But something had to be done,"

The man admitted

Through his sorrow

"Surely you wouldn't

Have let him see the

Light of tomorrow."

"Of course I wouldn't have,"

The driver cackled cruelly

"But you didn't have to kill that guy

That's the reason

Christ was crucified

To buy the atonement

For sins like these

To set restless souls

Like yours free."

"Oh so you're saying

This is Jesus' fault!"

A chorus of screams

Rose up around him

Suddenly, regretful grief

Settled in once again

"They hate that name,"

He quickly inferred

"Oh how I thought

I had my soul insured."

The driver said to him

"Oh no, this isn't His fault!

Not at all!

You sold your heart to sin

Now this is your eternal

Punishment"

Before he could argue

Two terrifying, disgusting demons

Pull him from the carriage

Their grasps were so firm

It was like bending steel

He couldn't escape

Couldn't even run

Of course, why would he?

There is no sun

He'd stumble in confusion,

Lost in direction

Go straight to the arms

Of his captors

Wandering in apathy

And self-desperation

"Where are you taking me?"

He demanded

Just as his butt landed

On cold, hard ground

Making a tremendous sound

The demons slammed shut

The door to the cage

Then growling as if in a terrible rage

"Welcome to Hell,

my friend

You'll just have to

Wait and see."

He lay on the floor

He perspired and shook

And with nothing to do

But stare into terrorizing darkness

He decided to take a look

At where he'd gone wrong

In the decisions he'd made

Believing he'd find

Consolation in the good memories

Considering this pain

To be only temporary

But the ache in his heart

Did not fade

And the more he dwelt,

The more intense he lived

Each and every bad day

Abruptly, he shot up from the floor

Completely feeling his heart being torn

He shouted aloud,

"I'm stuck here forever!

I never should have abandoned the Lord!"

He crawled to a corner

Rested his forehead on his knees

And began to weep

He cowered like a child,

Startled frequently

By fortifying and horrifying

Gnashing of teeth

"Oh, God, hear my prayer!"

he yelled to the stone

"Never let your sheep

Stray from home!"

He measured it an eternity

The demons returned

To present him with the punishment

He had earned

They restrained him like before

And again he tried to refuse

But to a non-existing ailment,

He ultimately failed

The paranormal strength

In their hands

Increased in shared, angry passion

Lead him to the chastisement

That would stand

They leaned him over

The Lake of Fire

Burning his eyes,

Making them roll higher

His muscles locked

And began a seizure

Falling over and rendezvousing

With his scalding, perpetual endeavor

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The doorbell rang

She wiped her hands

Pulling the chain

To the fan

Two FBI officers

Stood at her door

She knew is was
Bad news for sure

"Good afternoon, ma'am

May we come in?"

She opened the threshold

And lead them to a lavish den

"Can I help you?"

she asked the men

"Ma'am, we're very sorry

There has been a terrible tragedy"

The woman braced herself

Stiffening her rigid back

To become straighter than

A bookshelf

"What type of thing?

And why are you coming to me?"

The African-American man

Gently took her hand,

"Your husband committed

Suicide tonight

After murdering the man

Who gave your daughter much strife."

"No!" she cried

"My husband was a priest!

Our church congregation

Can't take this much grief!"

"We're so sorry," he consoled,

but to no success

And thought bitterly

God surely must be

Putting her faith to the test

"Is there anything we can do

To help you?"

"No, the damage has already been done

Trauma jostled him to insanity,

And the devil has won.

Thank you for your sympathy

But I grieve alone

I think its time

That you go on home."

The men got up and left her house

She went to bed,

Quieter than a mouse

It rained that night

And heaven wept with her

"Oh Lord of Heaven,

Draw me hither."

She felt the Spirit

Cradle her tight

Strengthening her

With supernatural might

As she wrote in her journal

the next morning

Her words to finish the mournful entry

"When all that's left is gunpowder residue

Scars begin to form anew"





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