I FORESEE YOUR END

I know just how you'll go
I see your final moments
I see the end of the show
I foresee your end.

Not sweet,
like you
But hard,
gritty.

No one loves you there
At the end of the road
No one has a care
For the way you glowed.

They shoot you
In the face
Yes, that pretty face
You grab your cheek
Shocked
But . . .
nobody cares.

THE END.
© 2003 by Michael J. Farrand


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