This poem was inspired by the (above) picture from Mark Sheeky, which is called “The Death of Man”.
You can find out more about the artist and his work here:
https://www.facebook.com/msheeky/
***
Friend’s don’t stab each other in the back
But lovers do, it seems
He thought, as he knelt dying
The weapon still embedded there
And she was nowhere to be seen
He grasped that one rose wasn’t enough
To make up for his indiscretions
His head went down, praying
To whatever God there might be
Pleading for forgiveness
For taking her heart and soul
And twisting it
Until only bitterness remained
But it was too late
His hands sunk into the ground
As he became a ghost
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