This Sucks

 

This sucks, he thought,

his throat taut and spraying crimson.

He only invited her in for a drink

and now she was making a meal of him.

Vision was fading,

this felt ever so degrading,

inviting her in took no persuading.

Being the victim,

this was not his domain;

He had never had to fear walking at night.

that his drink may be spiked,

or that he may be spiked to make a drink.

 

This was a real pain

in the neck.

He felt sick,

nauseous twisting feeling in his gut.

He only invited her in for a drink.

So easily swayed,

she looked so pretty in the moons glaze.

Thought this was his lucky day.

How many times the tables were turned

play with fire, one day you will get burnt.

 

Drained he slumped out on the couch,

like he's drunk the top row

and is out for the count.

(Talking of the count he's on his way)

His heart barely beating, his legs sway.

Vision blurred.

Lessons learned?

 

A knock, heavy and loud,

like a hammer falling.

Nailing down his coffin lid.

There stood in the doorway proud

the count loomed

enshrouded in a foggy cloud.

His voice boomed.

"Let me in"

 

The girl invited him in.

The count sunk his teeth in deep,

into the whimpering man's fleshy throat.

A gurgled choke.

Drained his last reserves,

saw his life flash in front of eyes,

in reverse.

 

So many bad times,

treated people like objects.

Committed too many crimes

A creep, a crook

a wheeler dealer,

just someone that played on their looks.

Oh, how he wishes that he could repent,

make amends for crimes of a life ill spent

 

 

Thanks for reading,

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle.