Guilt

*Author's Note*

Guilt can make your biggest fear, yourself since guilt eats at your mind, your consciousness, driving you insane or as in this poem, suicide.

An eerie wind blows throughout the graveyard,

Giving dead leaves the final push toward the ground.

Bushes rustle in the distance,

As every instinct flashes,

Screaming turn around,

Screaming go back.

The need of redemption pushes me forward into abyss,

Of deceased people,
That withhold magnificent stories to tell,
Now that are locked forever.

I slowly ponder along,

Reading names,

Reading lives.

The clouds part, revealing a full moon,

The moon's light assists my nervousness,

Watching for things to come at me,

To take me.

I carry on forward glancing side to side,

A dog's barking echoes across the night,

Drawing my attention to an old dying willow tree,

It was as if it was a movie.

I turn around looking out,

Looking out into darkness,

Into hopelessness.

I look at my hands, 

Which are drenched in blood,

I frantically wipe my hands on my pants,
Trying to clean them,
Trying to clean my history.
My mind triggers all of what I've seen and done,

Then panic sets in,

I start to run in fear of myself,

Running in guilt of what I am,

Not who I am.

Thinking is irrational in these moments,

In these moments of unknown.

My imagination and fear takes over,

Something pushes me,

Making me stumble,

Making me fall.

My head cracks up against a gravestone,

And I lay there,

Thinking on how I was everything I hated.

These moments are vital to realization,

Realization of maybe my mind,

Maybe my guilt shoved me to the ground,

Forcing me into this abrupt death I deserve.

Now going in between consciousness,

Wanting the pain to cease,

Waiting for the blood flow to dwindle,

Hoping to die.