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This was originally for a contest I was asked to partake in however that grand thing called life kicked in and I wasn’t able to finish it in a manner I saw fit; could have been longer but happy with what it turned out to be. Hope you enjoy.

Looking back I often wonder.

Could this be part of a living curse?

Or a dark departed slumber?

What if?.. a popular question.

Why not?..a better start.

You see I have a hard time finding,

Nay, an unbreakable thirst for knowledge.

So what you see as fate,

I see as perfect timing.

Had I knew what lie ahead

Would I still have entered that store?

Knowing it’d be death I’d try to flee.

I often imagine a life where people cared.

Imagine I would get to see myself share…

Something, with anyone, though it was had at times.

Nothing significant compromises my demise.

This killer, this…angel of death,

He moves in ways that show he’s been here before.

He holds his gun with a confidence I’ve never seen.

Who could he be so angry at?

A release of pain, a release of my life!

Why am I not more grateful to this man with strife?

Is that not what I wanted?
Did I did not think it couldn’t be worse?

Being prepared, he is not done yet.

It seems this one has a mark

Not wanting you to forget.

That while life has its times of despair

You must always be grateful and do take good care,

For my death has brought attention

To an entirely different type of lair.

Leaving my house prior in a huff to be anywhere but there

I headed for the store, something made clear.

Feeling a fleeting presence best described as the wind

The darkened ominous sky never so unconfined.

“A year from now..you won’t even know my name. Has this occurred to you?

Do you care it’ll never be the same? You anger me, seeing only yourself.

Must be a hard realization learning how to care for others; your presence smothers.”

Blurred visions of crimson and suspense permeated.

Gasps for life infused with shrieking from around,

Occurring so fast, not seeing the door re-open…

The blast from the shotgun being heard, yet so unspoken.

Figured in death I’d be given one more last word.

Thought there’d be more time, how absurd.

For time is a like a part-time lover

Fully able to take; yet unable to fulfill the other.