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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The crimson sun still up as she woefully walks in an abandoned rustic railways; Her feet ~ as heavy as the stale steel rails almost buried in forgotten soil; Her hands as cold as tombstone plate whilst holding a gun on her left hand~ She grips a quill pen to write the obscure death of the man in blue suit~ and the deaths of twelve passengers still unsolved... She was here some decades ago~ aboard in an old steam train The memory of that macabre ride haunted her for thousand days and nights. She writes in scarlet ink on a bloodstained scroll that says like this: " To all the victims who died here, I lay my hands before this forgotten railway and the weeping willows as my witness; I never thought too much love would kill. I killed my beloved man in blue suit, the driver of that tortuous train journey... Yes I killed him to save the three million people dwelling on the final station; Using the twelve infected people, He was sent to spread that virus that he thought would change the world. I didn't understand till now~ Yes, I killed him with a silencer and unlocked that explosive weapon before it reached its final destination. But I was spared~ not the twelve people; Now, with this gun I’ll give justice to all people who died here by killing the undersigned murderer. Till death, Anonymous ”. The gun silently flicks pointing her head~ Darks clouds hide the day as her blood flows on the thirsty ground. 1 May 2021 Modified for “ Guns Poetry Contest” Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco 11th place
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