It lurks in the corner of the unusual calm,
It watches through squinted eyes;
Always keeping the control.
It waits until I am walking through empty streets
To run up behind me
And pull a bag over my head.
It chucks me into the back of a van
And we drive and drive and drive.
It shoves me onto the concrete floor
In some unrecognisable place
And It holds out a gun.
One by one the bullets are loaded
Until It has all of the ammunition.
One by one the bullets soar through the air and into my body.
It watches me slump into stillness
And then It carries my body
Back to the van
And we drive and we drive and we drive.
It shoves me onto concrete floor
But this time it is under my roof.
It watches me with contempt
Whilst It goes back to lurching in the unusual calm It left behind;
Always in control.
-by holly boyd
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...
