Head of The Table

Awake

This man who saved him, who made him the man he is from the immature boy he was boy, who made him be the living example of from rags to riches, at this moment he had the guts to brush this away and end his messiah without skipping a beat, without no hesitation, without remorse in his heart. But the countless death toll proved he had no heart, proved that yarn in his head had killed the man and made him the vessel of chaos and pain, the man died ages ago only demons floated inside his shell. Staring at him like his previous victims he increased the weight on his finger, the pressure on the trigger till eventually… “Click!”, is this broken, he wounded scanning the death tool in hand to confirm his suspicions. No bullets, the magazine was empty the echo sounded, but why, he wondered, he was lost by the turn of events like why threaten his sister with an unloaded gun, did he love her? Were they together? All these filled the gaps but still it couldn’t make the full sentence. As he tucked