Shot

Another one of my death-depressing poems, yet again.

He came at me

Screaming loud

He took it out

And I fell down.

He didn't shoot

Not just yet

He rose above me

Kicking my shin.

He kicked my stomach

He kicked my head

He kicked my arms

Again and again.

He aimed it high

He aimed it low

You know it's true

That only I know.

Author's Note

In case you're wondering how the hell I came up with this I have these dreams, some of my friends call them "visions", at night when I'm asleep and during the day about a girl getting murdered in the above way. It's really creepy. At the end a few minutes later I hear some girl saying. "Help, help me. You're the only one who knows. You know what really happened to me. It wasn't an accident. Tell them! Tell them!" and then it goes away. I don't if it's just fake or if it really happened, but either way it scares the living shit out of me.

Reviews

[GhostWoman]

Thanks... I think.

[Coyote Poetry]

These dreams a dream catcher and some good meditation for you go to sleep. A powerful poem. Dreams are the internal emotion fighting to get out. A powerful poem with a lot of anger and violence.
Coyote