Being stalked silently,
strolling down the dark
sidewalk. The vague gray
light of the moon, glimmers
against the smooth surface
of the puddles.
The sprinkles of another
rain shower, disturb the film
of oil on top the puddles, in
the street. No one close,
to hear your muffled scream,
as the knife draws around,
your throat. As the rain falls
harder.
The muffled scratching
whisper of his voice, draws
your hand to your wallet. No
money here, You will pay
with your life. As the blade
draws jaggedly over your skin.
Before, death sets in, your
blood mixes with the oily water,
forming a cesspool, as your soul
pulls away.
The blood glistens, as
the smoke from your last
cigeratte escapes through
the gaping hole.
It filter toward the sky, the last
muffled gurgle from your self,
barely disturbs the quit of
the night.
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