A Short Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is about a woman who is holding in all this rage because of something her lover did to her. It is a thought of sweet revenge that in reality will probably never happen but easily in her dreams.

Submitted: October 21, 2006

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Submitted: October 21, 2006



Why do i feel this anger toward you

I want to take you and rip you to shreds

You went and gave me something to hold onto

But all i'm wanting right now is you dead

How could you have done this, i ask you again

How could you do it so easily

Hurt someone who loved you and made you their own

You meant everything to me

If this feeling subsides and i dont want you to die

It will probably be all too late

For i'm going to your house as quiet as a mouse

You'll be as food i scrape off of my plate

I pull up slowly in my low black machine

Close enough to see, but not too close

I get out and i'm ready, holding the blade, palms all sweaty

I can see that you're home, luckily all alone

I can do this, i hear myself say

Please let me be successful, i pray

I knock at the door a few times before he appears

He smiles, he doesnt know what's in store

Leaning in for a hug, i can feel his blood flooding onto the cold wooden floor

The glazed look in his eyes caught me by surprise

I thought he would die much quicker

So i pulled at the blade, ripped it right from his chest

His blood began to look thcker

Time was going in slow motion

Suddenly realizing what i had done

He fell to the floor and i ran out the door

I'll sleep in peace for i had won

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