Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2
There's a shape in the shadows
There's a chill in the air
But he won't let you get rattled
You won't know that he's there
There's no way to do battle, when you're caught unaware
One blink and he'll be gone and you'll be dead in your chair

Or was he even there
Can you even prepare
For a reckoning, a second into catching the glare
Of a barrel when the bullet's already in the air
Or the chemicals already have your vision impaired

As you try to place the face of that sommelier
When you're about to win the race but find the breaks aren't there
On a knife's edge, placed between the fumes and the flare
The last breath...with a glove in your hair

He's an artist with a knife
He will catch you by surprise
There's no faster a demise
Were you happy with your life
Cause you didn't have the time left for it to flash before your eyes

The sound of a coin on the ground
And not a shred of evidence will ever be found
Your death will be swift, without any sound
Ain't it tragic how a man can accidentally drown?
A poem about a monster, making his living like a monster
Written by
Please log in to view and add comments on poems