Unwritten I

When the bullet left the gun the bullet snatched the soul of my friend. Just inches away from me he stood and fell, drowning in his own blood. I could see all we did together since we were 2 feet tall. When he died those memories died with him. They become to painful to look back on because a piece of those memories are now gone. I stared into his lifeless eyes and he didn’t stare back, I stared straight through his eyes. Beyond his eyes I saw the essence of death which was absolutely nothing. The body placed into a body bag to be trapped much like the pain of his death inside of my mind. Driven away to become forgotten, a memory, and a hashtag. The gun went back into the holster of the police officer uniform. And the only the painful memories remain.

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