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Frank
Contributed by
Poet_of_anger
on
Friday, 14th January 2005 @ 06:02:59 PM in AEST
Topic:
StoryPoetry
|
Once there was a time for laughing
When he was young before he started cracking
Now his days are full of darkness
Sleeping away his saddness
There is nothing that he dreams of anymore
There never was anything he could be used for
All his hopes were dashed out in the sand
When he watched his wife and kid killed by his friends hand
The horror of that day plays in his head
And he takes a gun and wishes he were dead
His reason for life taken away
He sits alone and wishes he couldn't stay
His silent mourning disturbed by a phone ringing loud
Something that he has thought of ripping from the wall
Yet he gets up and talks silently
Then hangs up and leaves his house quietly
In the dark no one sees him leave
Living a life enshrouded by misery
It starts to rain and then it starts to pour
His thoughts drift to what he is here for
His walking pace quickens with every step
Until he gets to his destination soaking wet
He stands in the rain then knocks on the door
A man answers it and knocks him to the floor
The man says "Frank you do not look the same
You needed that to get whatever it is off your brain"
Frank gets up and stares him in the eyes
His friend that he did greatly despise
In his mind all his friends were the same
People that waited to betray
A tear runs down his cheek before he has time to clear his head
And in his mind he sees his family screaming as they bled
Turning around back into the rain
He says to the man "I will never be the same"
He slowly saunters home
Where he can again be alone
Clouded in his misery
Where he can see his family
No matter how much pain it brings
It is the only thing that keeps his sanity
From falling off it's dangling string
That he knows is the only thing he believes
Laying down on his dirty bed
In his dirty house where his life has led
He tries to sleep but his mind keeps him up
He finally decides he has had enough
Finding the gun that he had set a side
He picks it up for one last try
Sitting down in his broken chair
That for many years has screamed repair
Rocking back and forth he hears it creak
No matter how silently
Nothing matters anymore
He has nothing to live for
He takes the gun and puts it in his mouth
Quietly his sweat pours out
His finger testing the trigger now
Slowly pulling his mind drifts into a cloud
That takes him to his family
He holds them tight and finds a sense of peace
And then he is gone
He is gone
Copyright ©
Poet_of_anger
... [
2005-01-14 18:02:59]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Frank
(User Rating: 1 )
by afterdark on
Friday, 14th January 2005 @ 06:40:29 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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I gotta tell you first off you are no J.D Salinger
However your story was of a decent tone and was rather alright. |
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Re: Frank
(User Rating: 1 )
by Spazzo on
Friday, 14th January 2005 @ 06:49:00 PM AEST
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a Message)
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A very sad story. But it is great.
Spazzo |
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