A University student with a passion for poetry and expressing inner thoughts and stories that may be fictional sometimes
Every decision is a choice
He looks up at the rain and mist,
Contemplating his decisions and thinks of his children,
Looks up at the clouds, wondering if he will be missed
A shroud of fog looms over him, the revolver in his hand feels silken.
He pulls his hood back, rain drops falling on his face
He notices a unique scent, it’s petrichor,
Dismisses the thought of running, he knows they would give chase
What would they do to his children, the thought makes him sicker.
All he wanted to do was get richer, now his tears flow like a river.
She sees a dismembered figure, a shadow balancing on a ledge,
She calls out but her voice buried by the sound of rain.
The man looks back one last time, shuts his eyes and topples of the edge.
The lady running now, wears a look of horror while shouting out a name,
She knows she is too late and all her efforts were in vain.