Rot! (Letter To His Killer)

February 28, 2012
By RileyZDrew BRONZE, Butterfield, Minnesota
RileyZDrew BRONZE, Butterfield, Minnesota
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I never wanted that bullet to go through,
I never imagined what it would do

The day you took my brother,

You thought it would make you look tougher.

But there’s nothing you can do,
As I dream of killing you

Your eyes always wandering around,

And you jump when you hear the smallest sound.

I’ll destroy your crowd,
Then I’ll break your crown

There’ll be no one else,

Just you and myself.

Pull you lower,
Drag you under

Tell the devil what you caused me,

You took my beloved SD.

You took his life,
And now you think you’re such a badass

You know you’re not,

I hope you rot.

Chasing you down,
Slamming you onto the ground

You’ll want to fight back,

You’re fists won’t cause a crack.

I’ll pull out the blade,
Remembering Danny’s pain

Cutting you up,

Paying for what you have done.

I’ll see you bleed,
Knowing it’s not much fun

Then there’ll be whispers in my ears,

Causing me more fears.

Stomping on your skull,
Hearing your shouts in the hall

Breaking your ribs,

As you try to stop me with your fibs.

Pulling out your throat,
And I’ll think of how much it hurts;

You’ll keep begging for the pain to stop,
All I’ll say, “Rot!”

The author's comments:
“Rot!” came to be from a more personal event in my life. When I was twelve-years old, my older brother passed away. My brother was involved in gang activity, representing Saint Disciples. He was shot by a rival gang member who was a part of the Latin Kings, on the date of June 6th, 2009. I didn’t get to see him until three days later at his funeral. I hated that experience.
I spent the following months doing nothing. I stopped thinking, hearing music, reading, and writing. I was supposed to be healing. The only thing I did was get angrier. The male who killed my brother went on living his life as if he had done nothing wrong.
I wanted him to know how much I hated him. I thought I could write him a letter. I knew he would never receive it, but I wanted to write it anyway. As I wrote, it turned out to be more of a poem instead of a letter. I described the way I would cause him pain, how he would beg me to stop, but I wouldn’t give him any mercy. I wanted him to know how angry I was. “Rot!” expressed exactly what I felt towards him.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.

Parkland Book