Anticipated Betrayal
The sky was cloudy. Not grey - whipped creamed.
He raised his gun behind my back.
I felt like nothing this forrest lacked.
Steady-handed, he cocked his pistol.
I felt like birds here sounded Bristol.
"I have your back", he said and lied.
Leaves were falling. I watched their flight.
As bullet emerged from the smoking barrel
the wind was making oaks carol.
The bullet hit me, the world dimmed.
The sky was cloudy. Not grey - whipped creamed.
Свидетельство о публикации №115061808505