This poem takes place right at the finale or shall I say curtain call of the game, so don't read this if you haven't finished the whole game, please. Even though it doesn't really spoil much. As for the format for your reading pleasure, one stanza equals 7 lines, or basically, 6 of the lines that begin with "the" and the last line. As York/Zach puts it near the end, I really tried to pour out all the feelings I had accumulated after this scene, so I hope it comes clear in my narration of it.
The silence of the room.
The soft moan she brings.
The unwavering eyes, well sorta.
The calm posture, as opposed to my figure.
The fat gallop beside you.
The thing that is in you.
I can't stand to pull this trigger.
The shaking hands.
The "you" to me are both colliding.
The shaking hands still won't stop.
The boiling hatred growing in me.
The bastard laughing over there, at me.
The last thing you ever did.
I tried, I really did, but I can't Emily.