Seven years,
Several tears.
As he raises his hand, once again,
Striking it down, upon his kin,
He sees something different in her eyes.
There is no love.
There is no hate.
There is no emotion,
Her eyes are faint.
And with her sight,
It brings him pain.
One of which,
Has no name.
His punch drunk love
Was such an error.
He took a stand,
To end his terror,
Casting a bullet,
At the man in the mirror.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Seven years,
Several tears.
As he raises his hand, once again,
Striking it down, upon his kin,
He sees something different in her eyes.
There is no love.
There is no hate.
There is no emotion,
Her eyes are faint.
And with her sight,
It brings him pain.
One of which,
Has no name.
His punch drunk love
Was such an error.
He took a stand,
To end his terror,
Casting a bullet,
At the man in the mirror.
