Massacre.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I'm not really sure where this came from. I apologise if this offends anyone, it is in no way intended to offend anyone.

Submitted: March 14, 2008

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Submitted: March 14, 2008

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“….Ouch.”
She fell to the floor.
The blood poured from the open wound.
The world turned into the most beautiful light she had ever seen.
Everything vanished in those seconds.
She was completely numb.
Completely free.
Then the world came back.
In a rush of reds and blacks.
She was back to the world filled with pain.
Bleeding on the floor.
People screaming all around her.
Her ears ringing from the gun shots.
“…H-h-hel... Help!”
She held her hand over the wound.
She tried to breathe.
Someone came to stand beside her fallen body.
Like a dark angel sent straight from hell, he stood there.
He radiated pure hate.
He held the shot gun in his grip.
She looked away, turned her head away from the hate she saw in him.
There were fallen bodies everywhere.
The room smelled strongly of blood.
Death.
This room held death.
Everyone lay on the floor dying.
Everyone, but the fallen angel holding the gun.
She tried to breathe.
Her lungs burned.
She closed her eyes.
She let go.
 
Bang!
He fell to the floor.
Free at last from the voices.
 


© Copyright 2017 Jesyka. All rights reserved.

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