Death Of A Perpetrator
I turned around and there was death,
He took my hand, then took my breath,
I felt his touch, cold and harsh,
As he took the murmur of my heart,
I felt his whisper against my cheek,
As he took my final beat.
My sense was weak, my mind was hollow,
I pulled away, yet still I followed,
With death by side and a prospect so bleak,
I slowly crept into a soundless sleep.
I felt his grip against the knife,
As silently he took my life,
I felt their pain, I heard them cry,
Before the grave in which I lie,
I see them mourn, I hear them weep, ...