Leftover
over the table
I sat waiting to die.
all I can do is look
at a table covered in
newspapers and
collection notices.
I looked deep into the
shine of my nickle plated
gun,took a deep breath.
as life slipped away,
I realized that the clock
struck midnight.
and
I
starved
for death.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
