Planned Perfection.
And he sleeps
So quietly still
Without a sound
He dreams with skill
Barely a breath
Can I hear him inhale
I stare at him
Every single detail
No snore or flutter
Nor a a single twitch
Muscles still not flexed
Well, my turn now to switch
An hour now
His pillow on my lap
The hard of my knees
Rested atop where I sat
Needless to say
My legs going numb
Time to proceed
Time to proceed
Time to proceed
Time to proceed
Time to proceed
Time to proceed
And take out my gun
I continued, fearless.
I just sat
Trigger prepared
for hours following
never once scared
He had to pay
For all he had done
I could never regain from
His hate and his violent fun
Perfect play
Few knew of he or me
This planned perfectly
The police surely would agree
Yet I chose in waiting
The thrill of me now deciding
Knowing I was capable
Of anything inside me
I turned on the video
So I could ever rewind
Proof of my courage
Victory then is now behind
My Justice
Something inside of me
Embraced each hour
I had never before felt
Already smelling the gun powder
Then I was ready
To fill Justice my way
I shot him in the temple
Bloody now where he lay
My only regret I reflect
Is he didn't see me do it
Or didn't hear him begging
No mercy, cries or see him submit
Shocked
I guess that's when it hit me
As I started to scream
Drenched in sweat
I awoke from my dream
Thankful, I then had
Some milk with a treat
I looked down beside me
Where he lay comfortably asleep
Confused as this couldn't be real
But in the morning
he woke me early with a yell
Asked what was this video
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Should he play it or let me tell?
Submitted: June 08, 2012
© Copyright 2021 kimberlyswritings. All rights reserved.
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bbnix
A sweet, so tragic poem
Sat, June 9th, 2012 11:18pmWho knows where we're all going
Yet, one thing is clear
There is but one, dear
One of precious you
A gift, so very true
A writer, so sublime
A dream of a talent to one day be mine
The sun as it rose
Rose for you, a master of prose....