The Angel of Death

Seems like yesterday, but it was long ago,
Pictures cover his walls like a shrine,
Sits in the dark, with the radio playing low,
Trying to find answers in a bottle of wine.

Searching for shelter in every glass,
Hoping, to raid another night of sorrow,
Clock stands still, minutes don't pass,
Coping, to aid a less painful tomorrow.

The violent images replay in his mind,
Over and over as he watches them die,
Beaming truck lights, turn his eyes blind,
Screaming with hatred, please God why?

In his eyes, the enemy stands by the door,
See's a dark shadow, the angel of death,
The bottle slips, crashing to the wooden floor,
Frantic gasps, try to provide a critical breath.

Memories so fond, grow dark and bleak,
The melody of the music begins to fade,
Opening his mouth, but unable to speak,
knows this time, death he cannot evade.