Stories that are collected from the depths of the unknown or spawned from the deep recesses of my mind...
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Crying Isn’t Going To Help
I pointed the gun at the sick bastard who killed my wife.
He sobbed as he feared for what was to come.
I pulled the trigger.
If only he spoke and tried to reason with me then maybe he could’ve lived.
But that was obviously not going to happen.
After all, he was born just a few minutes ago.
—
Credits to: HonestRage
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