I dug a knife into her skull
And slowly twisted it
Until her brain was a puddle at my fingertips.

But she would not die.

I threw burning coals into her eyes
And watched her try to cool them
With her tears.

But, despite the suffering, she just would not die.

I held her head underwater
Until her arms stopped flailing
And the bubbles stopped rising.

And though she drowned, she refused to die.

Something inside her
Was fighting to live.

But I owe her my life for that fight.

I guess I'm not cut out to be a murderer,
I couldn't even ****
Myself.

- p. winter