as i felt the sharp thrust
and life started to weather
memories started to rust
bones soon will turn to dust
the punishment of my own lust
as my final tears i shed
i did not cry tears
from my eyes i bled
memories of the men i killed
with blood my eyes filled
misery of the women i raped
fear of the sins unjudged
thinking of the road i have trudged
as i lay in the cold mud
waiting for hells fiery flood
i wept my final tears of blood
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Author:
ishmeal mikeal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 22nd, 2010 00:41
- Comment from author about the poem: final moments of the mass murderer
- Category: Sad
- Views: 176
- User favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy.
Offline)
Comments1
Wow. The pleasantly interesting thing is that you gave the speaker a touch of repentance....that is very nice, and something I don't generally expect....I assumed the fellow would be too hard for such things.
What is it a picture of?...fits since it looks like blood and is rather in a tear shape.
even the most deadly killer is afraid of his own death as the reaper comes to take his soul and yeah the picture shows a tear of blood
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