It could have been easier, so much easier, if he had only decided on another course of action that late evening’s night.  I ponder back on it now, and a thousand words of terror still haunt my mind.  What was the
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Oh- the weight, the weight and what it could do
As my soul would severely suffer, hideously an ugly bruise
The sting of my salty tears, often a melancholy excuse
My obsessive thoughts- they ruled, always a muse
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Feeling weary, my eyes grow heavy, I decide the hours to be no more.  
Silence waiting, thoughts are fading, a few small steps to the night hold true.
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