It’s been almost twenty years,
not a single word. Thoughts?
I guess you can’t miss
the things you’ve never known.

Hell is full
of demons in the shapes of men,
sons, brothers, husbands, fathers.
Another place lies
not far from there,
where shades take shape
of things you’ll never see.
Ghosts of lives you never got
to live, of things said,
or never said enough.

I’ve not got murderous hands,
nor the simplicity for violence;
it’s my thoughts that scare me.