William Sinclair Manson

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My-Poetry / Writings · 4 April 2019

My Poetry. Die by the Knife.

He stands with a hole in his side
blood spurts over his pride
Puzzlingly wondering why me?
On display for the World to see.

This time yesterday he loved life
2 grown kids and a loving wife, 
employed full time in a security job
His dad taught him, “don’t be a slob”.
He feels his life draining away
Nobody bothered, nothing to say.
The sky has bluebirds singing sweetly
Buildings are uniformed, formatted neatly. 
His eyes are beginning to close,
his life flashes quickly, blood from his nose,
One mistake and he ended up here,
struggling for life, surrounded by fear.
But did he deserve this outcome today
regretting the temptations among the foray,
As he closes his eyes, his final breath,
not ready to go, dodging his death.
Then he sees a light, he is beckoned to go
While he misses his family and little bro.
No one deserves to die this way,
hand in the knives and live for today.


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