Run Child

It haunts my mind this concept.

Where it ends in a bitter-sweet finale,

And by a hand so close, a hand meant to stroke, not strike.

But he never played by our rules, and I never played by his.

Run from him child,

Run from the life he holds in his deadly grip.

And as I take my last breath around his blade,

His heart, a heart that beats for me, stops.

There is no more ail,

No more anguish thrusted upon our strained minds,

There is a end to the story that had no purpose.