Stare at the evidence,
that weapon you used to **** her.
The blood that stains the carpet,
the frantic smears of tears and fear.

Does it shame you,
knowing what you've done?
Are you guilty,
of what you've become.

Head lowered, eyes cast to the floor,
walking through all of these doors.
You can't look me in the eye,
or tell me why.

But you took her life,
with a dull jagged edge knife.
Buried in her flesh over again,
as she wailed for it to end.

You slung her up and tossed her down,
sealed the deal as you watched her drown.
Dusted off your hands and turned away,
did you think about the life you decided to take?