Inside the Garret
Inside the lonesome garret, all was grey.
He sat there thinking of his broken dreams -
like how he’d planned to be so rich one day,
and yet he’d failed at all his half-baked schemes.
Tormented by the itch that went unscratched,
he’d grown embittered by his circumstance.
He loathed the one to whom he’d stayed attached,
a foolish wife who yearned for mere romance!
She’d loved him, rich or poor, which was no help!
Her acquiescence made him hate her more.
He smiled as he recalled her startled yelp;
he looked down at her corpse there on the floor.
His final thoughts were quite far from contrite. . .
and then a single gunshot sliced the night.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
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