Rain pours down
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Brigette Hosking,
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Poetry
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2007
Condensation runs down the window,
In a pool of crimson.
The harsh jet clouds stare at me,
I can hear their mirth.
The hole in my head never seising in its agony,
The diamonds in the grass gather and sympathise,
How I loathe their sympathy.
Bullets from the sky shoot me down,
As they do everyone.
In the distance I hear a piercing scream.
I see Zeus’ weapons; they will devour the earth.
My last thoughts haunt me,
Who cares anyway?
Do I even give a damn?
The ebony calls me.
Peace at last.
Brigette Hosking Year 9