Why, did I kill him
What did he ever do to me,
I didn't even know the man
I could had easily just let him be.
He never brought me any harm
Nor did he every stole or lie,
I guess I just didn't like his living
So, I made him die.
He never stood as I stood
His thoughts were not like mine,
My friends mocked and cursed him
His credence, was asinine.
I remember what friends had wrote
About his belief, or was it lifestyle,
Or maybe it was about his religion
They are the ones who made me hostile.
My friends they gave me the motive
Their words gave me the ammunition,
Their thoughts gave me a direction
Murder, became my mission.
I guess, I just really hated him
How else could I ever explain,
All because of something that I had read
Now a stranger, I have slain.
Because of words I became angry
My soul was consumed with hate and fury,
I happily took a human's life
I became both Judge, and Jury.
My friends they still accuse
And happily they still dish out evil and hate,
Now I wonder whose weapon they now load
And the murders that they will create.
A stranger's breathing it is gone
Sadly, alone I must contemplate in my cell,
I took away someone's son, and a brother
And now I know, that I will rot in hell.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem