*This All Just Flowed Out, So If It Is Bad, I Am Sorry.*
He watches her as she walks slow in the feild of burning flowers.
Her hair blowing voilently.
Her torne dress barley hanging on to her fragile body.
She runs now not looking back.
To scared to look back.
The boy is screaming for her.
She just runs.
He puts a gun in his mouth.
*Click.*
Nothing.
She turns and watches.
*Click*
Nothing.
He looks towards her eyes full of tears.
*Click*
The flowers are no longer burning orange.
Now they are crimson red.
Written By-
Kristallpreis™
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem