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A monologue poem between a guilt riddled man and his homicidal alter ego. |
How come everything just slowly keeps on spinning? Off the record who are you to speak about these killings? A murder within yourself, you've become the deadly weapon Carefully I walk, walk on the same ground that your stepping All together this could lead to something catastrophic Like a lit match to the dollar bills that line the inside of your pocket Taking this to another level completely on its own I begin to think if this is what it's like to feel alone I know not what I'm thinking but what some voice is telling me So I told the voice which is me that this just could not be By now I've got to thinking that I've completely lost my mind My clock is ticking my pulse is slowly running out of time He'll be taking everything that is his, everything that's mine Quickly speaking fast as each of the voices combine I'll be dead by that which leaves his barrel if I don't speak If I speak, him that is he, that is me, will think I'm weak He knows what I'm not telling him is what he showed me Death defying it wouldn't be, defining death is more clearly I spoke, I uttered the words, those which he already knew He crept out from inside of me choked me until I was blue A low life killer taking the beating hearts of living things This time I'm a killer that's simply going to end up killing me |