Holding The Gun

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
tis poem is bit hard to understand but if you get it comment and if you dont ask question

Submitted: December 21, 2013

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Submitted: December 21, 2013

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creeping in the corridor a wooden beam shouts as it wakes from its silent slumber by quick feet the hallow walls heat at the touch from the lives they protect inside each closed room the sweet hum of sleep does not stop this imposer as it wraps its hand around the rough handle of a kitchens knife, the clock chimes its frightful call to a new night yet the chimes wake no one, innocence rushes it painful dance upon a unwelcomed guest revealed veins as he trys to break a lock in hope to find things of value, in the rooms a child sleeps and begins to stir from thirst and bad dreams so she slides her way to the kitchen slowly waking the floor boards as she slides her way through the silent night, like a fool she stops at the sound of a click and follows what she believes is a unknown sound the imposer freezes and turns to the child with eye's of hate, revenge, hope, and death as he raises the knife the child screams as she tries to run waking the peaceful night the man grabs the childs hair fast and expertly slits her throat a mother looks as the pool of blood flow from her sweet daughters slit throat in pure heartbreak and pain the imposer comes toward the mother to silence another raising his borrowed knife, time stops and a bullets shoots threw the head of an imposer a stranger, a thief, a murders head the room grows silent so quiet as the sirens grow filling the room in blue and red lights the innocence is gone a child is dead a mother is in shock and a father holds the gun


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