Behind Shut Shutters

Behind Shut Shutters

A Poem by MachinaWriter
"

A poem...

"

I close the shutters

My mind trails to those two brothers

Cane and Abel, where one killed the other

I shake my head

Trying to look anywhere- just not the bed

 

I fall down in the chair-

Think, think, think

Further in the cushion I sink

My stained fingers find a spark-

To light the cigarette- in the dark

 

What should I do?

I don’t know! F**k, where would I go?


I try to formulate

-some sense of logic

As my mind debates

Illogically, pressing me

For answers

 

But I have none

How can I?

I stare at the gun

My mind’s still on standby

 

I still can’t believe it

I’m frozen in this chair

Like a f*****g paraplegic

Thinking while I'm there,

Maybe I should leave it?

 

No, it won’t work

They saw me coming in

Someone will remember

Place the face, the time, the date

I’ve seen CSI, I know this case

 

Maybe I could bury it?

No body, no crime

But how to carry it?

S**t, I can’t even stare at it

 

Much less pull it from the sheets

Where it’s laying there, silently

Amidst the blood, I so violently

Shed, from the top of its head, in splattered art upon the bed

Even after they were surely dead

 

But they definitely deserved it…

I try to rationalize

While still trying to decide

Upon a method, where I could hide

Not a body,

-a mannequin

If I have to move it, I can at least pretend

 

Listen to you now…

You killed them first in flesh

But now even their humanity,

The only thing that’s left

You’ll kill that too, you’re such a fucked up mess

 

Stop.

I need to think, my time is running low

The shot was loud, the cops were called

Hell, they probably already know

Your name, your face

Come tomorrow, you’ll be disgraced

Any bit of good, you ever did or would

Will be dismissed without a trace

 

I shake

And my body trembles

Looking now, I’ve been tracing symbols

With the blood, upon the window

Just a few words, I knew would come

Then with shaking hands, I pick up the gun

 

And with one last drag, of my cigarette

The barrel to my head

I couldn’t have lived, anyways- with all this regret

The symbols spelled, upon the glass

I know now, will be my last

And with the gunblast, blood is splashed

 

Across the window,

-like something from a movie

Next to the symbols:

"That’ll teach him to screw me."

© 2012 MachinaWriter


Author's Note

MachinaWriter
Another kinda random thing I typed up. This turned into something totally different than what I was going for in the beginning. Like, not even in the same ball park, but whatever lol Its really, very morbid, but has a strange irony to it, especially at the end. Almost darkly humorous, which is odd to me. I don't know. Tell me what you think. I was really just screwing around on this one.

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Reviews

This is amazing! :D Love how it all builds up to the end ^.^
"And with the gunblast, blood is splashed"
Oh gosh simply amazing
You have talent ^.^

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Truth_About_Rain

12 Years Ago

Yes xD I've been gone for really long xD
Wow :O you wrote all those awesome poems in 3 days? O.. read more
MachinaWriter

12 Years Ago

Eh, I get on tangents here and there where I write a lot in a short period of time. I also tend to n.. read more
Truth_About_Rain

12 Years Ago

Ah ok like the opposite of writers block xD
Oh no you must be really sleepy right now D:
read more

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Added on September 13, 2012
Last Updated on September 13, 2012

Author

MachinaWriter
MachinaWriter

Springfield, IL



About
My original passion has always been in writing stories. Most of them were fantasy stories, because I always wanted to escape. That's what it was. An escape from the troubles of life. Joining this site.. more..

Writing

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