Looking at Johnathon's grave, he didn't know what to do.
What would happen if he tried to end it all too?
Should he use a knife or maybe some pills,
Who cares as long as it kills...
Now lying on his bed,
Wondering how to make himself dead,
When Damian walks through the door,
But not alone anymore.
A little confused, Paris rises to his feet,
Unaware of the danger he is about to meet.
He is now on the ground in a pool of his own blood,
It started as a river and now is a flood...
They felt no shame for what they had done,
The way they look at it, they just had a little fun.
Paris and Johnathon were best friends,
Too bad they both met such tragic ends...
Author notes
This is basically a sequel to the poem about Johnathon's suicide. And yes, if you didn't get it, they are BOTH guys and characters in some of the stories I write. So both these poems are about my fictional characters and the fictional end of thier lives. And somehow, I'm happy about all this. ^^
Written October 10th, 2005
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Comments
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woah, very sad poems, love how u incorporated the river to flood part in both, nice job
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