Fifty shades of death

The new character on The Walking Dead;
The one you like from George R. R. Martin’s books, all the ones you’ve read;
The matador who ran out of room;
The retarded witch who slipped off her broom;
The cow being shot for food;
The tree being cut down for glue;
The tight rope walker who’s slipping;
The shotgun wielding redneck who’s tripping;
The diseased rat on the side of the road;
The fly being eaten by a toad;
The dog being run over by a truck;
The cat that just ran outta luck, when she jumped out of the window in chase of a duck;
Yes I said Duck! Moving on…
The man on a ledge threatening to jump;
Everyone who works for Donald Trump.
Nothing personal, but we’ve all watched The Apprentice at some point, even if, for just a few minutes.
Anyway…
The old man at the bar who abused the word “groovy”;
Anyone who’s watching that “Jai Hoe” movie;
The messenger of god in religious stories;
The sane realist, aaa.. again, in religious stories; He’s the one they blame for all the bad shit. Rolling eyes.
The fish in a tank you forgot to feed;
The chicken on your table, you watched it bleed;
The construction worker looking down from the top;
The patient whose ventilator just stopped;
The deer being shot when spotted;
The grumpy old woman who hath rotted;
The man caught in a house fire;
The fireman putting it out, overworked and tired;
The coward who stepped in front of a train;
The brave who drowned in the rain-storm, trying to save lives;
The chronic asthmatic without his inhaler;
The homoerotic asphyxia-tor;
The skydiver with his ‘chute in a knot;
The gang member who just got shot;
The old man having a heart attack in the park;
The surfer getting his torso ripped by a shark;
The tribal witch being buried alive;
The teenage Emo with a machete knife;
The avalanche victim under six feet of snow;
The convict in his last moments on death-row;
The heroine addict with a rusty needle;
The Nascar driver with his foot stuck on the treadle;
The soldier with a bullet in his head;
The rebel at the front of the convoy he led, against;
The cancer patient in his final stage;
His daughter reading him the very last page, of the book he liked;
The Syrian child asleep in her bed;
Her father carrying her corpse;
The malnourished child crawling in the desert;
His mother without milk in her breasts;
The stillborn in the doctors arms;
Her mother’s silence.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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