He Who Kills
Sticky, thick, red, bloody.
Adding colour to paling flesh
And tinting dark brown hair.
The boy's eyes look in wonder
At the spreading pool of blood
What is left of his mind sinks into the deep maroon
Wondering delightly at the reflectivness of the puddle
His eyelashes become heavily wet
His nose begins to swell
The bone broken thru
The salty tang on his lips
His toungue bitten in two
Another re-enters the room
And examines that which his hand has done
Crouches and pulls open the others lids
Clear white glares back at him
The second turns back and draws away
A bubble of bloody spit emerges
From the dying mouth
A quiet, almost silent, gurgle emulates into the air
The killer turns
returns
To the body
A loud bang and a quiet thud
As another bullet joins the first
Deep inside the now-dead mans temple
Finishing the life that he never wanted
He stood at the side of his son's grave
Granite figures on either side
Cold steel bracelets encircle his wrists
As looks of hate
Brand him
The murderer he is
30/08/96
back
home