Murder Poem by Rex Mathew Mathew

There are times, when despise and hatred
Are spit like venom from the snakes around,
Infecting every bit of my power and peace.

Accusing eyes and stabbing tongues
That break the patient spirit,
Leap like lions of wrath set unleashed,
And cut me down and bury their teeth in me.
They attack my spirit till it leaks out of my eyes,
And they strike on till even the heart can cry.
Then when blood sprouts and all is done,
I am killed – killed heavily.

When the claws and fangs withdraw,
All that’s left in the cold silence
Is a forgotten corpse.