Suicide II


A lonely tear

Falls silently to the ground,

Reflecting the dreams

That are yet to be found.

An unreal smile

Presiding the pain,

A heart welded together

Holding inside it the shame.

A puddle of blood

Grows deeper on the floor,

Until the fear inside her

Exists no more.

Her motionless body

Grows paler in the light,

As reality swims away

And she begins to lose sight.

Her bloody palms splayed before her,

Releasing the sin.

And the images of death

Are portrayed in the end.

 

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The Interview


“Please, come in. Have a seat.”

“I prefer to stand. Do you have a light?”

“I’m afraid I don’t allow smoking in here. Would you like some water? Or I have Pepsi, if you prefer.”

“No, but I’ll take a vodka on the rocks.”

“Do you drink a lot?”

“It depends on what you consider a lot. It helps take the edge off.”

“Are you on edge?”

“Most of the time.”

“Why is that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We live in a shit world overpopulated with shit people.”

“Have you always felt this way?”

“Since my Mother was murdered, yes.”

“Didn’t your Mother commit suicide?”

“That’s the hook they’ve got everyone dangling from, if you want to swallow it, too.”

“How do you think she was murdered?”

“I don’t think she was murdered. I know she was. I was there.”

“Who murdered her?”

“I can’t say.”

“You can’t say, or you won’t?”

“Is there a difference?”

“The report says your Mother jumped from the balcony on the sixth floor of an apartment the two of you lived in.”

“The report is wrong, and they know it. She was pushed.”

“Who knows it?”

“The fucking cops, who else?”

“What do you mean they know it?”

“They couldn’t figure out who did it, so they pinned her as a suicide.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They couldn’t have the people in their safe little town thinking they let a murderer go free, now could they?”

“How do you know she was murdered?”

“I told you. I was there.”

“You told the authorities you didn’t see anything, because you were in your bedroom with the door closed when it happened.”

“Well, I wasn’t. I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t strong enough.”

“How old were you?”

“I was eight at the time.”

“Why didn’t you tell the police what you saw?”

“He said I’d be next if I told anyone, and I believed him.”

“Where was your Father when this was happening?”

“I never met my Father. He took off before I was born.”

“Were you and your Mother close?”

“The closest. It was just the two of us against the world. I was all she had.”

“Wouldn’t you like to see the man who killed your Mother pay for what he did?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about for fifteen years.”

“Aren’t you afraid he might still come after you?”

“No. He won’t be coming after me now.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t say. Now, how about that vodka?”