He Killed

He killed, and the blood stained his fingers.

He killed, and the knife was in his hand.

He killed, and felt the guilt noose his neck.

He killed, and they were after him.

 

He killed, and the victim cried out to Heaven.

He killed, and the gun was still smoking.

He killed, and felt the anguish drag him to his knees.

He killed, and they were after him.

 

He killed, and his mother screamed to Fate,

He killed, and his friends turned to stone.

He killed, and felt the contempt burn his skin.

He killed, and they were after him.

 

He killed, and gazed down at the body,

The metaphor which he killed –

He killed, yes he did.

He killed, and there is no redemption

For a man who has murdered another.

He killed, and they were after him.

 

They were after him –

Eyes of yellow diamonds,

Dangerously magnetic,

Hair of writhing snakes,

Hiss and snarl,

Bodies of bag and pulp,

Shriek and slither,

Teeth of sharpened pearls,

Glint and glister.

 

Roaring –

That roar alone can turn a man insane.

But he is immune.

He killed – he is already insane,

Pursued forever by the Furies.

 

He killed, and they were after him.

The End

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