With this dagger in my hand,
I killed an innocent man.
I took away the life, the world, and everything
From this one lonely being.
Because I’m a malefactor,
A villain, an evil, an exterminator,
I made him suffer from a delicate pain,
A suffering worse than death so plain.
Well, indeed, I’m an evil without pity
But I just helped him to escape the reality.
I healed his pain with this one great pain.
But of course he should have been slain.
A malicious laugh roamed inside this room,
While I was slicing his beautiful ears,
I never did want him to dolefully hear
The tragic music in his surroundings,
So I just annihilated his sense of hearing.
I’m a very sympathetic evil.
I always think about my victim.
The world is not a world anymore,
The beautiful scenes from the folklores,
The comely vision of reality
That were once in this home of humanity
Were now gone, like my benevolent heart.
So, for this man to see a wonderful art,
For him not to see the falling earth,
I took away the eyes he has been holding since birth.
I’m a killer, a compassionate killer
I’m a destroyer, a munificent destroyer,
I was slaying an entity, but I couldn’t hear a complain.
Maybe this man was relishing my artistic way of killing.
I couldn’t hear him cry, no sounds, no voice,
But the heart still beat with a noise.
So, I just seized the moment of bliss,
With my hand, I held a beautiful killing piece,
A sharp artistic instrument of death,
And with this piece, I made an aesthetic set,
Canvas was his body, and this piece was my brush.
Blood was my paint; I didn’t need to rush.
I passionately made a set of lines
All over his body of perfect strokes and styles.
And as finale of my art, I aimed for his heart,
It was my board and dagger was my dart.
My eyes sparked for my masterpiece,
A masterpiece like a sweet divine kiss.
I’m a murderer. Indeed, I’m a murderer!
But as I’ve heard the last beat of my victim,
I also heard an ending beat of my heart’s hymn.
I could hear nothing, and I could see darkness.
The dagger I used now tells me I’m a mess.
I’m a murderer, I’m a victim of myself.
This is my art – silence in my shelf.