The Warning Poem by William Helton

As I lie in my bed, trying to sleep,
I wrestle with a secret I am struggling to keep.
The massacre on the news, I am sure you’ve all heard
The police are searching all over, who done it, no word.

I keep thinking it over and over it in my mind,
How joyous it was because I took my sweet time.
They where all bound, feet and hands alike,
You should have seen it, it was a beautiful site.

Three people on the ground, eyes wide with fear,
Looking at each other and wonder why they are here.
Not one knows the other, who they are or their name,
What they did for a living, or why they are in this game.

My knife cuts through skin, tendons and veins,
Blood falls to ground like big fat drops of rain.
You kick, you fight, you spit and they yell,
No one can hear you from in front of the gates of hell.

Let this be a tip, a warning from me to you,
Be careful where you go, be careful what you do.
I grabbed one from the park and one from the mall,
She was at the escalator, about to take a fall.

so If you go out for the paper
Or an early morning jog,
Be aware of your surroundings,
I am waiting for you in the fog.