Critical Hit

The darkness fills the room,
A heavy veil cloaking all,
The only light,
Being the small red dot,
On the television.

Carefully making my way,
Across this battle field,
Known as the 'lounge room'
Dodging the hidden land mines,
Like the cat, magazines and shoes.

A gasp escapes my lips,
As I stumble over a small object,
It was small and cold,
And time seemed to slow,
Before I felt the pain.

My head struck the corner,
Of the computer table,
A sickening crack,
Echos through the darkness,
And my unconscious body falls.

Night slowly passes,
My body remains still,
Dried blood stains the carpet,
All is silent till,
The first sunligh shines.

Footsteps walk down the hallway,
A yawn as the person stops,
Looks down at the ground,
Slowly bends over,
And picks up their shoe.

They wipe the bit of blood off,
Slip it onto their foot,
Cautiously steps over my body,
And leaves the house,
For their own exciting day.