Consequences

I spy above a little girl, her face a deathly pale,
Her dark eyes brimming with her tears, as she lets out a plaintive wail.
I look below and see his face, a mask of pain and horror,
The inky red surrounds his head and washes out the floor.
The wretched hands that did this deed still attached to my own arms,
And sadly I know what must be done, and it fills me with alarm.
It’s heavy and familiar, my favorite hunting knife,
As I pull it from his body, to snuff out another life.