Treasure Island

Mariam Taufeeq


Murder Me


My heart is ringing, the old sacred tune
But withered and weary, my eyes drop,
My heart skips a beat, mischance to wonder
Do I deserve to be This?
But wonder wanes, selfishness draws in the reel,
My heart has never broken, so how can it heal?
My eyes are cold, penury stricken,
Snakelike.

Etched on my soul is a battered old rune,
I know who I am, my genealogy, my traits,
How can I be responsible
For my own mistakes?
My hands do not shake, I look straight ahead,
At the blood, at the boneless limbs,
At the shell of a 'person'
Someone like me.
My heart skips a beat, mischance to wonder,
Did he deserve to die?
But wonder wanes, selfishness draws in the reel,
My heart has never broken, so how can it heal?
And I pull my knife from between his ribs.
I have killed him.

I breathe, like a jagged curve bending,
My chest feels iron-heavy, my heart is ringing,
Still ringing.
Maybe it's me who's meant to die.
And it happens.
I wither, I shake, I quiver, and stop,
I know what has happened,
I bend towards the floor, and drop
Onto to the ground.
The ground is meant for me.
My heart skips a beat, mischance to wonder,
Why did I become This?
But wonder wanes, selfishness is dead.
My heart is broken, I dare not look ahead.

Submitted: Saturday, May 11, 2013
Edited: Saturday, September 21, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

(Written from the perspective of a murderer)

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