The cyanide is not working or maybe after my death I have just woken up. I reached for the poison cup because only then could I truly be tough enough but I now realize I missed the steps where I took a little of the poison to make my self immune. Day by day as I would have watched it’s effects fade away. I guess my hubris is now why I lay dying, but why was I trying to make my self into man that could not be touched? I should have know that if I was going to play with the hand of death my final day would come to me in a rushed fashion. Was this all done because of my passion or did I truly just follow my Juliet to the grave without hearing here reply to whether or not she was in… I think that the word that now alludes me is love but as I lay here I now fear that it was not love that gave me a shove into my early grave but the brash actions of one whom assumed to much.
1 comment:
nice...but better formatting needed:(
Post a Comment