Executioner's Song

I am cold. I am in control.

The man is tied to the bed on the other side of the wall. Separated from me by slabs of concrete, metal bars and bulletproof windows.

I am protected here. I am safe.

He cannot do anything.

A murder machine with no batteries; a wasted bag of flesh.

My hand grips the lever. I am in control.

(I am God.)

I pull it down sending lethal liquids surging into his wicked veins.

A smile creeps to my lips. This is justice.

(The executioner’s high.)

I imagine the witnesses across from me;

The victim’s family,

The bastard’s son.

Observing the procedure of his classy death.

The pulse is checked,

The man pronounced dead

My day is over

My job is done.

But yet…

But yet I lie awake at night,

Seeing his face and his eyes and his smile

Seeing his son and his tears and his cries.

And numbness takes over me

And then reality hits like a wave

And destroys me in its path.

I am the reason this man is dead

I am the reason his heart stopped beating

I am the offender.

I am the actor of HOMICIDE.