He did not wear a scarlet coat
But still my blood runs red
All my blood was on his hands
When they found him with the dead
The poor dead girl he hadn't loved
And murdered in her bed.
He walked amongst the Senior Class
In a polo shirt of gray
No hat was placed upon his head
But his step was light and gay
But never once did he think
To look wistfully at the day
Never did they see him look
With a sad or wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
That we dreamers call the sky
And at every drifting cloud that went
With sails of silver by
I walked with no other souls in pain
From friendship ring to ring
And was wondering if anyone knew
What he had done to me
When a voice behind me whispered low,
"Is he dating her now? They're so cute together!"
Dear Christ! The very highschool walls
Suddenly seemed to reel
And the ceiling above my head became
Like a casque of scorching steel
And though I was a soul in pain
My pain they did not feel
They did not know what hunted thought
Quickened my step and why
I looked upon the garish day
With such a wistful eye
He had killed who he said he loved
Yet he was not who died.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword!
Some **** their love when they are young
Some when they are old
Some strangle it with hands of Lust
Some with hands of gold
The kindest use a knife because
The dead so soon grows cold
Some love too little, some too long
Some sell and others buy
Some do the deed with many tears
Some without a sigh
For each man kills the thing he loves
But this man did not die.
It was I who died a death of shame
On a day of dark disgrace
I wore the noose around my neck
But no cloth hid my face
They saw my pain the moment I dropped
Into an empty place
I waste away with noisy friends
Who gossip night and day
Who gossip when I try to weep
And when I try to pray
Who gossip lest I should forget
Who laughs at the end of the day
I wake at dawn each day to see
His face across the room
I hear his words, they hit my heart,
Like the brazen bells of doom.
And no one looks at me to see
My pallid air of gloom.
Each day, I rise in piteous haste
To put on convict clothes
So his foul-mouthed cohorts can gloat and note
Each new and nerve-twitched pose
As he taps his phone with little clicks
Like horrible hammer blows.
I know to whom he sends the texts
The girl who caught his eye
I can't help but think, "You're beautiful."
Was nothing but a lie.
So still I look to God above
And heave a windy sigh.
It was he who kissed me on the lips
And sentenced me to die
His hand held my breaking heart
And said, "Please do not cry."
But a coward's kiss kills half as quick
As the hand that holds the knife.
But all men **** the thing they love
By all let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword!
Much was taken from Oscar Wilde's "Ballad of Reading Gaol" Parts taken from that and the idea as a whole are the sole property of the deceased Wilde, and I make no claim to any of that. The second and third to last stanzas are the only purely original parts of the poem.