He had a family, I don’t,
I killed him, now he doesn’t.
Was it his fault? That I have no one?
That I live on the street like an unwanted dog?
For the money, always for the money,
That I had picked up the knife and stabbed him,
Not once, not twice but more than three times,
Again and again.
As his screams pounded through my ears,
And his blood washed through my hands.
Then I had ran,
As his last breaths had wheezed out,
And his eyes slid close.
I ran.
I had heard the siren but didn’t stop,
I hadn’t even known him!
And now I had destroyed him,
Him and his life,
All gone, because of me.
His lifeless eyes,
Still and staring,
Bored into my nightmares,
On the rare occasion,
I fell asleep.
Otherwise I stayed,
Up and alert,
My heart thumping,
My head swimming.
I didn’t like it,
My worst mistake so far,
I wish I could rewind the time,
To a better time,
When I didn’t have,
Murder on my hands,
And a price on my head.
But that’s too far-fetched,
Even for me.
Guess the best I can do,
Is to keep dreaming,
To keep hoping,
Someone will see,
The person inside me.
