I looked at the computer screen filled with pictures and words,

I scrolled through all the stories that have ever been heard.

But there was one I looked at which caught my eye,

The wording and lettering hadn’t told any lie.

Something spoke from it, honesty and complexion were used

and mostly all the words were twisted, not abused.

The story pulled me in and I was able to stay in it,

until reality called me back and I yelled no,

I couldn’t wait everyday to start reading again,

but then, something happened in the end.

It turned out that the bickering and cheering among blubberous noise,

were only his way of knowing that we were still his toys.

He not only played with words but also our hearts,

oh no here comes the last part.

The MC was as a character can be,

a middle aged man stocked around thirty-three,

He knew it was his time to come,

but which was his spotlight: the lady or the gun?

With careful wording, the message was hidden.

The man that was as can be was driven.

He watched the days pass by as his numbering was being lessened;

this Author was second guessin’.

Through all the hardships and curves,

he still found a way to make us cry with the verbs.

Then he told us goodbye,

sorry for making us cry.

Just like the MC,

it was his time.

We watched as his words faded along with his existence,

then he was gone right in that instance.