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Cadaver

My blood stained hands quiver and shake,
But deep down I know, it was the only choice to make.
My own breathing is strained; I cannot draw a breath,
Amazing how things change, when you stare in the face of death.

Why should that life be allowed to carry on?
Won’t the world be a better place, once that menace is gone?
His soul so black, so full of bitter hate,
Has written its sins in blood, on fate’s all knowing slate.

Still I know how hard it will be, to face that cold cadaver,
Yet there is the joy of knowing, I will never hear his cold laughter.
Never again will I have to look him straight in the eyes,
And never will I have to hear another of his lies.

What right did he have to throw my faults in my face?
And whisper all my secrets where they echo in this place?
I take a last look around and all that I can see,
Are all the scattered pieces of my own worst enemy.

There is only one more thing that I have left to say,
I’m not sorry for the life I have taken today,
As the darkness takes me in I am finally in bliss,
With mirror shards protruding from each one of my wrists.





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Reasonswhy said...
May 28, 2010 at 7:07 am
Great poem, hun!
 
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