poems

what have you done?

Look at the carpet,
Just look at the floor.
There's blood on my hands, and blood on the door.
Her body lay motionless,
Something I had never done before.
I had made such a mess,
But I couldn't have taken anymore.
The knife was still in my hand,
The blood was fresh.
I had to take a stand,
So I stabbed through her flesh.
I can only imagine what my mother would say,
What have you done?
But I'll never regret what has happened today,
Does this mean I have won?
Sirens echoed through the house,
At this I began to panic.
But I slipped away as quiet as a mouse,
The whole scene was tragic.