Poetry, Quill

Murder In Retrospect

Perhaps I was a little late,

Perhaps the silence thickened,

and I ask myself this, everyday.

Was it I, who never listened?

I had reason for what I did,


“He was innocent” they told me,”

“A life here lost in vain”,

Not a mark upon my body,

His throat was painted red,

And numbness was the echo,

of his screams inside my head,

His hands were bare and empty,

I held the sharpened knife,

But he held the chaos in my mind,

The reason he lost his own life,

The wounds I gave him were shallow,

The needles in my brain were tall,

Not a mark upon my body,

As my mind had bore it all/,

shhhh’ I hear somebody,

I feel the fingers on my neck,

He’s alive, I know he’ll come for me.

Or perhaps, another anxiety attack,

I know he stole my sanity from me,

What more can he take back,

No, not a mark upon my body,

But my eyes are painted black.

6 thoughts on “Murder In Retrospect”

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