A Little Too Late

Every time he closes his eyes
A part of him dies.
He sees their faces
Dead and cold.
His beautiful wife
Of just a few years
Stricken down by one of her worst fears.
Drowning is a tortuous death,
A cruel end to a wonderful life.
A wonderful life harboring another.
Held beneath the frigid water,
In a not-so-friendly swimming pool.
Her body left dim and lifeless,
As the life-that-would-be slips away,
Before it ever truly began.
A so-called best friend,
Brought their life to end.
Jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy.

Jasper was paying the price,
Was it merely an unfortunate roll of the dice?
He opens his eyes
And instantly he cries
For the family he started
And how it departed.

Laying in a cold damp jail cell,
Listening to a pipe above his head leak.
Drip, Drip, Drip,
On and on for hours.
Though time ticked on,
The knowledge of an emanate death,
So slowly and silently slinking its way
Closer. Closer. Closer.

The best friend he thought he could trust his life with,
Took it away.
He was jealous,
He loved Molly too.
If he couldn’t have her,
No one could.
No one. No one. No one.

He hears the quick steps of the guard.
He swallows hard.
There’s a knock on his cell door.
Jasper lifts himself from the dirty floor
For the last time.
Walking down the long drab hallway
For the last time
To die for a crime he never committed.
For a moment he begins to pretend,
To pretend it’s all been a dream.
Then he hears a terrible scream,
Coming from a panicking man.
A man meeting a death same as him.
Jasper sits down.
His heart begins to pound.
The room is as white as newly fallen snow.
He looks around at a small white room.
The walls are white.
The floor is white.
The doctor’s scrubs are white.
It smells of rubber gloves.
It radiates dread.
The lights look too bright,
Making Jasper’s eyes cringe in agony.
Bright. Bright. Bright.

The doctor walks over,
Asking if there’s any last words.
Shaking his head “no”,
He prepares himself for death by lethal injection.
Watching the needle pierce his skin,
He struggles as he feels his body giving in.
The bright lights seem to grow dim,
Startling him,
As the world grows more and more blurry.
He has no reason to stay,
He thinks,
As he lets him self slip away.
Away. Away. Away.

Six months later a frightened woman comes forth,
But it’s too late.
She says she witnessed Molly’s murder,
But it’s too late.
If only she had spoken up sooner,
An innocent man wouldn’t have died,
But it’s a little too late now.

By Kaycie (2012)