Cohoma Scott King

She walked back to the bedroom, reappeared with a handgun, I laughed, determined she was joking I continued to harass her, I hated the fact that she hung out all night with different men, jumping in and out of cars, hoping one day she'd reconsider this kind of living, yet she didn't, she wouldn't even consider it, now she stands in front of me crying from tear to tear, A 380 pistol in her left hand and a stoned look in her face, I approached in a manner that would not raise suspicion, now close enough to disarm her yet she flinched and squeezed, pumping two bullets into the wall and four in my stomach, as I fell to the floor she vanished into the night, leaving me behind to die, God bless my mother and no one else