Monday, May 30, 2016


Sticky crimson ichor still thick and wet
drips from my fingers as I’m remanded.
I hurriedly hide them behind me, yet,
I can’t deny, I’ve been caught, red handed.

Hands so red and shiny! It’s still hot,
from the body where it flowed through a heart.
The old-penny taste of it still has not
left my wet mouth where my teeth left their mark.

My victim’s innocence is just as clear.
I was not acting in my self-defense,
but from selfish pride, a spirit of fear,
hatred, anger, and malicious intents.

My hands are dirty with the only thing
that is pure enough to make them come clean.

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