A Book of Poems

23

 White hot pain shoots through me

As you leave me there to die

Putting your foot on my windpipe

Slowing down the process , making it all the more painful

Black spots dance before me as I try to process the fact that none of it was real

That it was a lie, a joke, a play

You were just an actor, a character in a show

I was the one chosen to lead by your side

- The show is over and the curtains close