Rain flooded the broken windows
Cracked. Torn. Wrecked.
I peered through
The boy.
He sat there
Lonely thoughts flooding his head

I walked through the abandon house
As thoughts rushed through my mind
The scent,
I knew it.
The scent of death

The little boy
A knife in one hand
Blood in the other
His throat
His clothes
His hair
All drenched in blood

I picked up his head
It rest on my leg
How could it have happened?
I thought he loved me
I thought he cared

I awoke in a pool of blood
A knife in my hand
Blood in the other
My throat
My clothes
My hair
All drenched in blood

He picked up my head
It rest on his leg
How could it have happened?
I thought I loved him
I thought I cared

How could i have done this?
My thoughts were only of him
My eyes slowly shut
The door was closed.


 
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