Why Good People Kill Poem by Eric Altman

Letting the door open on a rainy night, the cold frightens the unprepared.
You must go, your welcome has been worn out.
Short steps across the pavement, bare feet find the casualties.
Leaves once dry and kind, are frozen and malicious when softly muddled.
Across the threshold, your midnight journey ends in a shiver.
Long and full, chances have past here before, and you remember their outcomes.
Back out into the drumming night, prepared for the fallen clouds.
Wet percussion hides your eyes, and makes intentions an unfinished puzzle.
Yet the finished picture was there, before the razor's work.
Someone has made quick peace with their demons, fails in regret.
So the brief light quickens the pulse, and there is found the tang of life.
Loss is lost, and succeeds in brilliance.
The cold frightens only the unprepared.