He shot himself with a 357,
It was like a drive-by at a Seven Eleven,
He got out of his Chevelle, dropped to his knees,
And then he pulled the trigger, with all ease.

I may not know much, but I know this,
There's more to life than being pissed,
He had two kids, had he no pride?
In his head, the hole was wide.

I didn't feel it coming, it was very strange,
You were aware of everything arranged,
You'll never see my face again, you'll never see me cry,
You'll never talk with me again, you won't kiss me good-bye.

Tweet

Comments on this poem/writing:

Click here to read other Poems by Mere

Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

COPYRIGHT NOTICE: All Rights Reserved.   No part of this website, including all pictures and written words,  may be reproduced or copied in any manner from this website without  permission of the original author of the work.  All poetry and pictures herein remain the sole property of the original author and/or copyright owner.  All poetry on this website has been submitted by the original author of the work. To contact any author of the work please e-mail: dreamer@dreamersreality.com  so the proper person may be notified.