The Suicide

Blood was running down his 
skin hot and sticky like a 
summer wind. he felt himself 
slowly losing sight "is this how i 
die tonight?" As his eyes rolled 
back slowly into his head his 
body grew cold, he was now 
dead. but dont be sad although 
he is gone, he is in a better 
place, and his soul will live on.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

Poem

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