Head hits the pillow
and check lists no longer
form on ceiling.
Floor boards
no longer creak
under the pressure
of being alive.
Then world was gone like
a black hole swallowed it;
there's finally peace
But the alarm clock
jolted you out of bed
and onto the battle ground.
Revolver in hand,
chambers full.
Blindly shooting,
you fill yourself with holes
YOU ARE READING
Dear: Hell
PoesiaThe elevator broke now death played with you all night. - Hell's Deal ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sometimes monsters are real, sometimes Hell is fictional, but both have impacted many lives. So, take seat with some coffee and enjoy this poetry collection.
