my finger is on the trigger the needle is in the vein my blood is on my hands my soul is in disarray my dreams are littered with death the smells soak my dreams drenching my bed sheets awakening, bound in linen and sweet in the distance I see fields littered with red poppies drooping, dripping in the morning mist bending with the weight of the unknown mortality waits at every turn the knife blade glints in the morning dew the bare wrist looks inviting as the knife slides silently into its sheath the red mist clears the sun breaks through the clouds my soul is in my hands the red poppies look beautiful this morning
© 2016 Michael D Emmerich
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