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A dissonant blend by Eriana Freeman

Murder on the doorstep

A poem by Shay Smittie From Central VPA

The milky white snow slowly turning red,

the chill air soon becomes frigid.

The echoes of footsteps running away,

hear the knife hit the ground.

The cold metal hits the stone step with a nice chime right after.

Then the thud of the body hitting the ground like a bass drum at the end of a song,

slowly bleeding out and freezing to death all at once.

What a bad way to go.

Feel the unforgiving winter,

and kick box with the grim reaper.

Slight breathing.

Eyes, barely open.

Try to breathe when the air itself is taking your breath away.

All this going on,

right on the welcome mat.