PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The man was spending time with me,
In solace he offered not a word.
Quickly talking, determined to be heard
In pools of bitterness that was not free.
He did not arrive for friendships sake.
His price was high, his purpose vanity,
As he sat and instructed his reality.
Words flying by, words I couldn't shake.
I resented his presence, I resented him.
I was tired and wanted to go to sleep.
But instead listened to his logical leaps
Of illusions and wonderful chances of sin.
To hear him would mean he had a plan,
Yet I knew his religion was contrived.
I wondered that he even survived!
So I killed him, that silly man.