John Steward | + Follow Poet |
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The Last

I’m Hiding, Hiding in this cupboard
Feeling sick, I’m sick to my stomach
The shotgun sounds
I hear him. Coming, he’s reloading his rounds.
The Stairs, they creak, he’s searching for me
I am the last left alive, the last of my family.
Fight or flight? What do I do?
The Shot gun’s blast could tear me in two.
Die alone? Cower in fear?
 Or Stand up tall, make HIM shed the tears
He’s inside the room, I hear him close by.
I quiver, I quake, and I’m too young to die.
I breathe in deep, the fear taking hold
Am I really this brave? Am I really this bold?
He’s checking the room, checking under the bed.
He’s getting so close. I will NOT end up dead!
We were not the first, nor daresay the last.
Unless I play at his game and act deadly fast.
I check in this space I search for a weapon
I need to hurt him, not just to threaten.
I silently search in this cupboard of mine.
It’s now all or nothing, to my fate I’m resigned.
My hand brushes metal, a blade I have found!
Is it enough to turn these tables around?
A blade and surprise, my life they could save.
Revenge for my family that he’s sent to their graves.
Don’t know why he chose us, or what spurs him on.
All I do know is that my loved ones, they are dead and they are gone.
The time is near, it’s approaching fast
I’ll show this scum that we were his last
He’s passed me by, he has his back turned to me.
I crawl from my cupboard silent and stealthy
I creep up behind, raise the blade to throat height.
He won’t forget in a rush, he will rue this sad night.
I am no killer, but I want this scum dead
The coldness overcomes me and it fills me with dread.
As I plunge my blade into the flesh of his throat,
I see this filth twitch and i smile ready to gloat.
The maniac turns, the shotgun in hand
That’s when I see, that’s when I understand.
From my cupboard I was blind,
I just couldn’t see, who it really was that was searching for me.
I thought they were gone. I thought he had won
I didn’t realise he’d wrestled away the shotgun.
The last blast i heard wasn’t their final demise.
I just didn’t know,  I just didn’t realise.
He had felled the evil, he had put it to sleep
He had protected my life, and now i have cut him so deep.
He was my hero and I cut him down
In the tears that I shed I deserve to just drown.
I pick up that shotgun and I feel the heat of the blast.
They are all gone now, because I am the last.

Copyright © John Steward | Year Posted 2018

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