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Mya Thompson Poem
Praying on my knees,
Hoping that Allah can forgive me
From the sins
That gives me pleasure,
Much pleasure.
Sin is all I know,
Sin is my way of living.
It’s the only thing that’s
Worth living for…
To me atleast,
Then came the torture,
My heart throbs, angrily
As the floor shakes, constantly.
I run to the place
Where I keep my deadly weapons,
“Black Sins”, some may call it,
But all I want to do is save myself,
Not my family…
I know what they are after.
I am dead,
I know,
But I can’t go down
Without a fight.
“Allah, please forgive me”…
I gathered my “black sin”
And headed towards the family room,
To my surprise,
I had several unexpected guests…
But only three caught my attention.
It wasn’t a pretty sight,
For I knew that I was going to die
A DEATH much similar to the people
I had MURDERED.
They shot my wife,
But I just wanted to save myself,
I had plenty of wives…
I ran downstairs
To see my death approach me,
Something that I thought I would never see.
All of a sudden I felt pain,
An excruiting pain,
Build up in my brain.
“Allah, please for—“
I was out.
I was solid.
I was dead.
Copyright © Mya Thompson | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Mya Thompson Poem
Broken records,
Shattered.
Hard work destroyed
While TVs burn in fury…
No signals,
Ash covers up
The ground in slow motion
But fast enough to end
The wonders of the modern history.
Living with anger,
Living with curiosity,
Living with a damaged world.
Copyright © Mya Thompson | Year Posted 2011
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