I wish that wasn't me.

I look at the bodies of my beloved and my son and wish that wasn't me.
I look at the ****** knife in my hand and horrible wounds on their bodies and wish that wasn't me.

I remember coming home drunk.
I remember her being angry at me.
I remember my head aching.
I remember her yelling at me.
I remember shouting at her to shut up.

I understand making a mistake of taking the knife and screaming at her.
I understand making a mistake of stabbing her again and again, crying at her to be silent.

I regret looking up and noticing my son weeping at the door.
I regret screaming at him to be silent as well.

I stare at my hands and the ****** knife.
I stare at the corpses of my dearest queen and my heir.

I wish that was me.