Written in Blood
Notes and letters fill the hall,
a blood soaked scarf left hanging on the wall.
A cold chill runs down your spine
the floor creaks,
the windows crack,
a sharp bloody attack.
Now your throat is left slit
it’s hard for you to grip the phone, isn’t it?
She took her finger and wrote out her last words
so the truth would be out
she thought she was cursed.
Her hand eased up to her neck
she tried to stop the flow
nut it was too late.
Her white dress stained,
feelings of pain,
torn,
wishing she was never born.
She took her index finger
with her last bit of strength she managed to write
write out her killers name in bloody plain sight.
Kim
Kimmy, her thoughtless killer
sisters they were,
though, she hated her.
Written in blood on the hardwood floor
a name of a murderer
a selfish insecure.






Excellent imagery.
Red.
Thank you, Red! Glad it formed an “excellent” image for you.
Bradley Howington recently posted Who Dare Comes Knocking?
This is one of my fave genres. You will find a lot of my poetry asks you to listen. When I read gore, I want to see it…vividly. You have done that here.
Thanks, Brad.
Red.
You’re welcome! I’m glad I could paint a vivid picture in your mind.