deepundergroundpoetry.com

Black Death

A scorpion will never face itís own stinger. A bear will never maul itself. † Why then do some men have wounds they wont talk about?

Itís not always the arrow that kills you, itís the infection. †Gangrene is a slow death, spreading slowly but surely. †It loves an open wound and marches itís death brigade ever so gradually to the heart.

The unforgiven has a unique gaze his eyes. †Itís says heís longed for the barrel of his revolver. †Looking at him is like staring right through a bullet hole. †And he knows the choice is simple, cut off the trigger finger that betrayed his love, or just welcome that slow but certain death. †

The path to survival is clear, but he just hasnít decided yet.
Written by Nilknarfar
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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