Blood from the knife blade drips
Through the flesh it rips
Victim swoons to and fro
As his motions begin to slow
Another jab
A final stab
Blood soaks the clothes
Color crimson as a rose
As he crumbles to the ground
And makes not a sound
From my hand the knife drops
As the fury stops
My path chosen
As I stand there frozen
A quick retreat
Everything complete
Noise unable to block
Awakened by the buzzing clock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem