Fear.

To spill innocent blood.
You're using your inner anger.
With the gun in your hands,
it's your decision.

Blood stains on the wall.
Makes me smile.
With the craziest mind.
I'll pray for that kill.

The murderer is here.
to call out that fear.
In order to kill.
He'll break that free will.

Now he's close,
Almost here.
He'll try to kill,
but what if he fails?

With bloodshot eyes,
he opened the door.
His skin was white.
And his voice was dark.

He walked straight to me,

while he held the gun
in a desperate grip.


He said to me;

"I will bring that hate of yours,

to hell.
This isn't a punishment.

This is a favor."


As he raised his hand wth the gun,
and aimed its sights on me.
he hesitated and shook.



I whispered;

"You got one shot.
Use it well.
Take that knife.
and bring the hell."

A tear is burning on my cheek, Am I supposed to die like this? ~

Lol, skrev denhär bara för att. typ en dikt/berättelse. o-o