It seems I held the knife
A body lays still and silent
The chattering of the skies
Question this emptied life
Here the fear arose inside
Hell showed itself red and hot
I must endure the torment
Am I insane or justified?
Emerging from the silence
I heard my own voice scream
Fists shaking at the sky
To question my own violence
No sense to the weeping
A twisted melody in song
The agony burns deep
To see this body sleeping
And in the quiet sown
A question from the skies
I stole a man’s life
That life was my own
This is basically a rewrite of the following text, which I can’t remember (and didn’t note) where it came from. It seems to be a sort of synopsis of Dante’s Inferno perhaps?
I killed a man. He is gone. He is silent. I heard many things from the fish of the ocean to the birds of the sky. Why I took his life I do not know. It was perhaps the phobia of which I trembled in fear. The petrifying portrait of a demon from the depths of hell. I may be crazy. I may be right. But was I wrong? Then I heard it. “Why! oh! why!” I shrieked. “Why am I destined to be tormented by the demons of hell.” I screamed and yelled. Was it not yet? Was it here? I killed a man today. In a violent nature. Nothing makes sense. The weeping tears of gore. The symphony of smiles and laughter. The searing pain of death. Was it worth it? And from the fish in the ocean. And the birds in the sky. I took a man’s life. And that life was mine.
1994ever 