Alison's Images

the red that stains my hands like ink
will scar my heart forever
the red that pools down on the floor
was caused by my endeavor

I didn’t mean for it to end
the way I know it did
I didn’t mean for this to be
Oh would my God forbid

You weren’t suppose to be here
I wasn’t mad at you
But then you saw my hidden gun
And then at me you flew

You should have stopped and asked me
You should have calmly walked
For when you ran across the room
I didn’t even balk

And now I stand, too stunned for words
Too shocked to run away
The sirens sounding at the door
Howl like a dog’s loud bay

I’m standing in my prison cell
I’ll never stand outside
These bars, through whom, I’ll glimpse a life
I’ll never more reside

the red that stains my hands like ink
will scar my heart forever
the red that pools down on the floor
was caused by my endeavor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

opinions more than welcome. I showed this poem to two people before posting.

one said it was the creepiest thing they had ever read and the other said it was amazing.

please note that as usual, this is not a personal experience poem.

I would probably shoot myself by mistake if I tried to fire a gun.

the point of this poem was to try to show the whole “haste makes waste” point.

acting an anger never works.

comment at your pleasure