Skeletons In My Closet

November 27, 2010
By portialynn BRONZE, Auburn, California
portialynn BRONZE, Auburn, California
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

You seem to get some sick pleasure out of this.
The way you haunt my every thought , how you control my very being.
You whisper sick jokes into my ears.
You play with the skeletons in my closet, like little toys that you use to torment me.
When I look in the mirror I can’t see myself anymore, all I see is you.
Your just staring back at me, a twisted smirk on your face,
A single tear slides down my cheek.
Why can’t you just leave me alone? Let me be.
I have paid my dues, apologized for the wrong I have done to you.
If I could I would take back that night.
Those drinks,
Putting the keys in the ignition and driving away.
I would take back not stopping at that stop sign,
Not even slowing down a little.
I swear I didn’t see your car pulling out.
You almost made it across the 3 way stop,
Guess you just weren’t fast enough.
I didn’t mean to hit the side of your car so very hard.
If I would have known your little girl was in the back seat,
I would have slowed down...
I didn’t mean to hit your car with such force that she died instantly.
I didn’t mean to take her life away at only 3 years old.
Don’t you think that I have been through enough?
Forever having to carry the burden on my shoulders.
Do you not think I would have rather lost my life instead of taking away another’s?
Especially one with so much living left to do.
I can’t handle this anymore, its all I think about.
As I sit in my closet awaiting the day of my trial with the accident on replay in my head.
Every moment slowly replaying over and over, slower and slower each time.
I can see the front of my car hit the side of yours with such force that the door folded like tin foil.
But right before this happens I can see your beautiful daughters face,
Her eyes widen, and she takes her last breath
And every time this is replayed in my head it gets harder and harder to watch.
That is why today it stops, all of it.
I raise my arm, and press the muzzle to my temple.
The cold metal sends chills through my body.
This is the best solution for my pain, for yours, for your daughters.
Right before I grab the trigger, I see you and your daughter smiling down at each other.
And I whisper my last words, right before my last breath…
“I’m sorry.”
Then I pull the trigger.

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This article has 1 comment.

Olivia7 BRONZE said...
on Dec. 27 2010 at 4:31 pm
Olivia7 BRONZE, Cavecreek, Arizona
3 articles 0 photos 9 comments
Very moving and powerful. Great work! Check out my poem "The Secret Life of Crabgrass"!


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