A Murderer's Lament

Would you sit beside me, while

I stitch a few verses

On the man who killed his dreams?

Can you smell the pungent blood,

Blotching the ink on the notebook?

That nauseating air hanging heavy-

With a tinge of copper and regret.

Or do you feel the blade-

Scraping its serrated edges, along

The labyrinth of ice blue veins?

Tell me, dear, don't you hear his screams

Piercing through the night?

As he lay there writhing in agony,

Struggling like a kite caught in the hurricane.

Oh, if only I could whisper

Into your ears, as he did-

You would know that there are places

Worse than hell on Earth,

And none more suffocating than

A man's mind-

Burdened with expectations.