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Murder in My Mind

It's about a murderer's victims.
He doesn't know you
He didn't know me
Why he chose us
I still can't see
Does he close his eyes?
Take a turn?
Choose whether to maim?
Or whether to burn?
He dug a hole
Deep in the ground
So no one could hear us
Not one little sound.
The tears poured out
Dripped off our cheeks
The days dragged by
Turned into weeks.
Now you're dead
And I'm on my way
This is my last stand
Something I had to say.
Why did you pick us?
Who do these things?
What does this madness,
This insanity brings?
Was it the joy
Of us screaming in fear?
Or the triumph of watching us
Shed tear after tear?
Now we will never know
For us it's too late
I hope your future victims
Are saved by God, faith, or Fate.
By
Published: 8/31/2009
Bouquets and Brickbats