The Homicide

Painted faces faded in the storms,
In subtle rain your face transforms.
Your mask melts, the colors fall,
The paint mixes with my blood on the wall.
Deceit bound my hands and feet,
While manipulation slit my throat in defeat.
There’s stains you can’t remove,
A murder, your painted face can prove.

The Suicide

Maybe your string of lies will hold you steady,
Jump. Leap. Come on already.
Hanging from that rope is the only way to fly,
Catch your breath, your chance is swaying high.

You may think a suicide note to self,
But in reality, it’s dusty on your shelf.
Behind all the cobwebs you aren’t at peace,
Your anxiety is the ghost of the deceased.

My homicide becomes your suicide,
Only in death are our thoughts unified.