The world was red with rage,
Like the blood pouring from his leg.
His body as rigid with anger,
As his wife’s body was in death.
The thug tried to beg for his life as he strangled him.
The thug who killed his wife.
He seemed to hear his wife’s voice in his head,
Telling him to let go, to live on.
He didn’t want to hear her.
He wanted this miserable thug to pay.
His wife’s voice seemed to say that if he killed him,
His life would be over.
She didn’t want that.
He was unwilling to let go of his anger,
But he let go of the thug.
So propped up by fear,
The thug fell when released,
Crouching, coughing, whimpering on the ground.
The man called the police and waited.
He held his anger close to him,
Like he had held his wife in life.
When the police arrived,
He told them what happened without emotion.
An ambulance arrived with the police.
He held his anger in his eyes,
While the paramedic examined his wound,
And the police handcuffed the thug.
He held on for dear life,
While the police car with the thug safely inside,
Drove out of his sight.
Once they were gone,
He let go,
And let his tears fall.
This was the seventh assignment in a creative writing class I took several years ago. I don't remember the assignment and, uh, I don't really have anything else to say about this one. ;)
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