Collaborative Sonnet
Nov. 20, 2009

I watch the hands of the clock go round
Touching each number, counting
The sound of each tick, tocking a new second found
Crouching in memories, of doing this rounding
Silver lilies breaking through the frost
Dripping blood puddles on the floor
There he lies his hands still crossed
His life brutally ended - his pain no more
And buried beneath this red strained corpse
an envelope stained red and crumpled in half
No one will know, now of course
What led him down this path
Only the frosted lilies know
Why, oh why, he chose to go.