Bushwhacked
By randy-johnson
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Eight months ago a man shot me in the back.
He's a coward, that's why I was bushwhacked.
If two men hadn't found and rushed me to the hospital, I wouldn't have lived.
That sorry excuse for a man is evil and he's somebody who I'll never forgive.
He didn't have the courage to face me face to face.
He's a coward and a psycho and he's also a disgrace.
He shot me because I'm dating his former girlfriend.
Just because of that, he intended for my life to end.
But ballistics helped the Police to trace the bullet to his gun.
He was found guilty of attempted murder and he's in prison.
He was shown no mercy when he was sentenced to thirty-five years.
The doctors in the ER saved my life and I'm grateful that I'm still here.
(This is a fictional poem)
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Comments
Oh Randy you always write
Oh Randy you always write such interesting and outlandish poems.
I just wish you would once reply to my possibly inadequate but extremely well meant comments,
or just read, and maybe comment on mine, or somebody else's writing,
Unless, of course you find the idea of this particular type of interaction incredibly pointless, or frightening.
I've been commenting on and off on your work for a at least couple of years now -
and feel utterly depressed and almost very, very sad at the lack of response and am very close to tears now.
Just a word, or a smiley yellow face would do to satisfy my need for credit
that my efforts at appreciating your poetry don't go out the window as I think they might, and dread it,
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