He came home 3 hours late.
I was ready.
Greated him warmly
at the door.
Acting like nothing was wrong.
But inside. . .
my blood was boiling.
Behind my back,
within my grasp
lay the weapon of choice.
As he came forward
to hug me,
I held a fully loaded
pistol to his head.
That was then,
this is now.
I walk down the streets
today, going unoticed.
I put the slugs
where they belonged,
in that two-timing
liers head.
I made it look like
a suicide.
Never regreted puling
that trigger tight.
As the clip sounded off,
I laughed to myself.
"Actions speak louder than words."
Now, isn't THAT the truth. . .

 
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