I Die.

I killed him!
I KILLED him!
I KILLED HIM!

Death. It is an escape.
Death is beautiful- Death is divine!
But he did not die,
I killed him.

"Murther! Murther!", cried Silence.
The pen ran out of ink.
For it did not want to be a witness- a medium of acknowledgement.
A third pen failed to blot.
They do not want to stain.

They all run away.
Far, far away.
And they should!
Why shouldn't they?
Run away from danger, I say.

They ALL run away-
Far, FAR away.
And they should!
WHY shouldn't they?
RUN AWAY FROM DANGER
I again say.

In Death lies Beauty.
In Death lies Sincerity.
In Death lies Peace.
In Death Serenity, Benevolence, Love and Care.

But care I do not!
I take souls away.
I kill- the cruelest kind of murder
For you do not acknowledge it as murder.
And yet I murder, I do.

Again, Again, Again, Again,
Again, Again, Again, Again.
Eight moons in a row
And maybe I will some more.
But, murder I do.

I murder what is dead.
I murder what is living.
I murder everything that comes my way.
No, everything that is in him.
I murder.

The lifeless body moves.
It trods. It falls. It sees.
But it reacts not.
How could it?
Life it has none.
It did. It had.
I sucked it out and tossed it away.

And then I cry.
I cry, again.
"What did I do?"
"What have I done?"
"I did not mean to."
And then I die.
I die, again.

What Does it Show?

I need a bit of help.
Tell me what it shows,
When you're talking to someone over the phone,
And you forget that someone is there
And you only talk to yourself,
Perhaps, perhaps in despair.

You repeat words.
You repeat phrases.
On and on, over and over-
"Two years Two years", "no-no no-no"
On and on they go
"Ok Ok Ok Ok" soon follow.

Someone's talking.
Perhaps you hear, perhaps you don't.
You go on with your chant,
For a semi-hour or so.
What does it mean?
Or what does it show?