A Reason To Kill
His eyes stare up at me,
yet I feel nothing.
No remorse, no fear,
no dizzying high, no soul tearing low.
The numbness is pain enough.
A life draining through my fingers
or a heart stopping in it's chest.
It's all the same to me,
another face to go with the others.
I wash his life from my hands
and I think of how much blood I've poured down the sink.
But when I look in the mirror
my reflection just stares back.
Empty...
I'm alone in what I do, it's better that way.
Nobody to explain my actions to,
no phone call to be made if I'm late home from work,
no mouths to feed or children to clothe.
But what makes a man kill another man?
Power? Maybe.
Control? Possibly.
The ability to decide a man's fate? Perhaps.
Life or death is such a simple choice.
Why do I do it? Simple.
It's the only thing I've ever been good at.
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