The night was so pretty down below the surface.
Sitting on the edge of a platform searching for a purpose.
Staring down into the abyss.
Millions of questions in my brain.
The long deep afterlife calling out my name.
Could I really hurt him? The man I love so much?
My father figure, my older brother. The only person I got.
"But it's you or a stranger."
A soft plead I the dark.
So I agree to be at his house by dawn.
He didn't want his son to see what he would become.
His son of matching hue.
A young adult, maybe eighteen to twenty-two.
My friend greeted me with a smile as I entered the room.
'Harry!' He yelled, as if he didn't know what I was about to do.
He offered me a drink, and handed me a note.
'See you in 50 years' He joked. I nodded an apology.
As he gave me a final remorseful squeez.
As I stabbed deep into his chest, unable to breath.
As he gripped my shoulder, his body limp in my arms.
I muttered a final prayer.
As the orb rised up.
I reached for it gently. It glistening with light.
"It's better me then a stranger"
Is all I could think, as I opened my mouth.
And closed my eyes.
The incident of 83.
The worst night of my life.
"In loving memory of Braxton Afton
I'm so glad I met you in this lifetime."
YOU ARE READING
The Story Of The Red King
Poetry"Our Former King Harold Dawson recites his time as king through poetry" The Red King is a "children's" poetry book taking place inside the world of Hellbent following the tales of Harold Dawson and his past.
