I have a question.
I'm bleeding.
I want to know.
Barely breathing.
Stand back. Let me get closer.
I'm not coming back till I know.
Who put the gun in my hand?
I can see it.
Who put the thought in my head?
This must be it.
Stand back. Let me get closer.
I'm not coming back till I know.
Someone answer.
Then I'll fight.
Someone tell me,
if I was right.
I'll die trying, if I have to.
But I won't share my answer with you.
I thought that only the tangible could be destroyed.
© 2006 veingo
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/10914/82474 on Sunday September 07th, 2008 01:55 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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