Dead in the Ruins of Your Own City

A perfect plan. The architect. A piece of man. A filthy mess. Cocaine. The victim. A misled talent. Rising to the top. You paid for it. Ensnare. Overwhelmed by his debts. In a viscous circle. As everything sunk. Triggered by his problems. Needing to save his back. Trafficking. Was all you knew. Too deep. To change. Or redefine your path. Your trust in human. Your ruin. Rise to the top? You’re going down alone. Alone. Caught in a corner. Conscious. His life’s threatened. Cracked down. Erase the cause. To save himself. Erase. Seduced by avarice. You were stunned by corruption. On hat morning everything had changed. His pulse knocking down. A flow of poison. Drenched in sweat with no escape. Plagued by permanent thoughts. He couldn’t banish from his mind. Mentally rehearsed. Over. Over and over again. Until he had. The perfect trap. Nothing was left aside. After several. Attempts. You could feel. The situation getting awkward. No doubt. You’ve seen others before. This guy was abusing of your patience. The final date. Dressed up in black. He waited in the shade for the moment the prey. And you fell for it. How was your last day. My dear. Merlin. He faced your fear. Cold hand. Gun shot. He ran. He stayed awake that night. Eyes wide open. You lived too fast. Rigid. And cold. Your blood splattered. Your hand on the wheel. Face down. Dead in the ruins of your own city. I failed. I failed being there. Even on your death bed I wasn’t there. Does it erase the times that I was at your side? Let’s celebrate your glorious ending. I’ll dance on your grave.