I murdered a man
I ran him straight through not with arrow or sword, did I
but with vengeance, and scorn, and barbarous conceit.
By the employ of lies, and tales I dare not repeat,
did I lay him down right under our feet.
He was kind. He was noble, but never overbearing.
He gave of his heart when others stopped caring.
His company, and his family were his own quiet joy,
but I drew disparity between them in a still quieter ploy.
I envied his friends, and their amorous gaze,
but I undercut their roots until they all turned away.
His family was tougher, but I soon broke their will
As a tongs lies will carry what a blade won't conceal.
I murdered a man till he was all but broken,
cast out, and lonely, and bitterly soft spoken.
I murdered a man till he could no more than die.
I murdered a man, and that man was I.
| Email this Poetry
| Add to reading list