Reflections Of Color : The Snake by Brett Matthew West I Remember writing prompt entry |
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence. The Snake Psychotic. Hypnotic. And always on the make The whole town knew he was nothing but a snake A son would soon be born to this lout He spent his whole life knocking him about Battered and bruised from head to toe The boy kept quiet so no one would know Hellbent on the whiskey that was always there He ran the whole house with deep despair His wife was no stranger to being beat Her shattered heart lay dying at his feet There was no hope only deep fear If water in her eyes should appear A two by four and a bullwhip If the boy made a sound he was sure to get hit His only friends were sorrow and strife What a way to live such a young life Then one night when the moon was black The snake took a bullet in his back As he lay bleeding on the ground He watched his world come crashing down. The son that shot him did not care There were no feelings left anywhere To the town he was no hero just an outlaw A noose and the gallows was all he saw
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