Rage
I never heard their cries,
Over the sound of my music,
Begging me to not hack them apart,
Pleading for me to end what I started,
To put the blade down and give up.
They always brought me down,
And finally I cracked,
Raiding the old shed,
Finding a large iron axe,
Sneaking into their bedrooms,
And hacking away as they slept.
Watching their bodies jump,
And their eyes open,
Feeling their blood splash my face,
Seeing them for the beasts they were,
Looking past those frightened eyes,
Into their wicked souls.
They mean nothing to me anymore,
Their blood washes away my sins,
I don't need them,
Never really did in the first place,
They got into my way so many times,
And now I am alone at last.
I buried them to rot in their own gloom,
Deep behind the cellar walls,
Where not even the rats,
Can feast upon their putrid vile bodies,
And their minds will wither away.
My sins have been forgiven,
As I make my way to the chair,
I have rid my world of it's evil,
And my death is the price I must pay,
So be it,
But it shall not be in vain.
Death of the innocent is meaningless to me,
What was so innocent about them,
Making me dig my own grave,
Stabbing me in the back,
With a thousand daggers,
Ripping at my beating heart,
Tearing my mind to shreds.
I hope that people will learn,
That rage can kill,
Not just the ones around you,
But cause you to die inside.
I feel the energy rushing through me,
Like a live current moving through a wire,
Cutting off electrical impulses in my brain,
As I pray my last prayer
Goodbye cruel world,
For I leave you nothing but remorse.
Copyright © Robert Needles | Year Posted 2012
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