She holds the gun
to her head.
Finger on the trigger,
hammer cocked back.

Tears slide from her eyes,
down her cheeks
and into her open mouth.

Blood drips from her open wrists.


Watching the clock,
she is resolved
to pull the trigger
when the hour
is struck.

She watches
as the second hand ticks
it’s way around.


So determined,
she isn’t crying
for help.
She can only do
what she has set out to do.
Nothing will deter her,
she will not relent,
and no one will know why.

As the plastic hand
sweeps the paper face
the moments of her life
begin to reach their end.

No thoughts cross her mind,
she simply counts down
in her head
as the tears fall.

Her finger squeezes,
the hammer drops,
a bang is heard by no one
as her final moment passes.

It is 9 o’clock.

About Fatesjoke

You can now find me and my stuff at
This entry was posted in Poems, Poetry, UDPS. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Committed

  1. Tim Keeton says:

    It is 9 o’clock

    And all is not well.

  2. Great rhythm and pace! This flows really smoothly :3

  3. Rätsel Ewig says:

    Powerful, that is all I can say.

  4. Fatesjoke03 says:

    Thank you all.

  5. Fatesjoke03 says:

    For anyone interested, this piece and another of mine were published in a small collection here:

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