19 April 2012
No matter what I do, It is always there to greet me. A vision of my future. A horror for only me to see.
I see a man, stand facing me. His head faces the ground. In his hand, there is a pistol. Surely he can hear my heart pound?
His head slowly rises. Determination in his eyes. He quietly raises the pistol, And lets me meet my demise.
The pistol drops, horror crosses his face. He lets out a small, low groan. He turns and runs, far far away. So no one will see my flesh, hanging from the bone.
He leaves me there, to rot and decay. Not a word did he speak. All I can hope during my short life, Is that the future I can somehow tweak.
A Vision Of My Future • Opuss № I