Untitled

Violent fiction from the mind of a bitter narrator.

you fall down an icy flight of stairs
your glasses shatter, your vision's impaired
you can't feel your legs, maybe they're broke
bloody mouthed, you begin to choke

now fighting to breathe you grab for your ringing phone
it's out of reach and you're all alone
your family must be worried on this cold winter night
but you're a strong soul, they're sure you're alright

can you appreciate a starlit sky if you know it's your last?
or are you dwelling on regrets and mistakes from the past?
found by a man, you're met with a glimmer of hope
there's a chance you might make it, you can't let go

he rushes you to the hospital on unsalted roads
he makes a sharp right and his tire explodes
your head hits the dashboard and you roll out the door
looking up, you realise that you've been here before

with blurry eyes, you make out our initials carved into a tree
your blood runs cold as you think of me