I suppose that you loved

the thought that

you had excavated

this trench 

deep inside,

causing dispire,

to surge out like a fountain.

Then within a instant

you turned your cheek 

and disappeared.

Making me submerge 

into thoughts of trepidation,

as if I were a monster.

The only creature 

that you had created 

with individual parts of you,

had come out to be undesirable.

I presume,

this is why

it came to the point

where you had shot me

right in the chest,

as it flew out,

the trench created,

did not fill up with anything

but enmity. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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