Point your gun, pull the trigger
Kill the need that seems to linger
Blood dripping from your finger
6 feet in, regret now bigger

Cold creeps in, heart is bitter
Mind falling, soul is sicker
Moon outside, glowing silver
All is dead yet you still need her

Peer the darkness, find your face
Feet that fell from disgrace
Second chance, her embrace
Love leaking from these straits

Disappear without a trace
Worry fills empty space
Love dropped out from the race
Wings dropping from the weights

© Delia Ross. 2020

I love the wonderful feedback about my poetry, that’s why I’m now on Patreon which is an excellent platform for writers and artist. Can you help me reach my goal?

Death becomes her (digiart by @poeeternal)

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