PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It slides stealthily in you, the fear 
shifting the blame, stoking to run. He said 
the wolves are coming. I heard a wailing 
sound across the black wall, 

I hate you, I hate you. He was crying 
and shouting. Why were you so good to 
me, why did not you hit me? He started 
throwing stones on jasmines – 

and then hanged himself with a shoe 
lace. Fingerprinting the DNA was inconclusive. 
Senseless incarceration, a hidden paranoia, 
a tormented soul arrested under the canopy. 

Heights, yes heights were responsible for the 
fall, for the hurt, for the pain. Could not 
stay fearlessly for a long time. Perfection 
was the watchword. 

Death was the peace.