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Nov 2017
Through a red stained window
I watched a friend lose their head
And coupled with regret I was filled with a hope
That maybe the blade would fail to descend on the neck of the soul in turmoil and end the berating.
The scent of fear finally fading
A sense of complacency
Come to a place that half matches decency
But it's deceit.
The blade calls and falls
Claws and hungers
Hands unbound, hold yourself still
Commence the sentence given in a voice of the same pitch and tone of the one coming from your throat
A traitor to your own
A blade buried home
A mind on the run
Forever doomed to roam
Part if me feels as if it is unfinished but the other part feels that is how it was meant to be.
Andrew Saromines
Written by
Andrew Saromines  Las Vegas
(Las Vegas)   
  293
   Jessica and Xallan
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