18+ The victim takes matters into his own hands at a terrible price to his future. |
- Whiteside- by Keaton Foster His hands The man Whiteside A monster From the past Presently present He won’t go In my head In my heart Dare I say In my soul He still lives The physical representation An unquantifiable aberration Deceased Killed by me Two to the heart One to the face Buried deep In the woods Under a tree No one will see Only ever me In the forest it stands Amongst hundreds But be assured I know exactly the one Whiteside His name His legacy And thus heresy He had no children Just monsters created Via his actions I am just one I’m sure Without question There are many I was brave Fearless He pushed too far The victim Easily became The victimizer I have no regrets He deserved to die No one ever Not a single soul Came to look No one ever asked What happened to him Such a lack of concern To me proves my point He deserved what he got Two to the heart One to the face Identifiable No way Unforgettable In every possible way Whiteside Deceased Killed by me One of his victims The bravest of them all I dug his would be grave Led him to his doom And I put him down All before I was sixteen God may forgive me Then again he may not That matters none I had to stop What he had become And what he had done Justice was served At a price I willingly paid And continue to pay I’d like to forget But some events in life Are meant to remain As a way to remind us Of what we have done Because of what was Done to us… Whiteside Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014. |