Today I killed a man.
He was a good man, with a wife and
three kids waiting for him in a suburban
house about half a mile from the city
with two nice cars and a trained dog.
I killed that man
just because he wanted his money. The
one-dollar bills weren't enough, so in I
went, deep into his stomach, rupturing
exactly 7 different veins, one of which
was a main artery, and slicing open his
spleen. The good man might have lived
if he didn't take the man’s hard-earned
phone. Instead, the good man bled out
in a dark alley between Main Street and
3rd Avenue. No one heard his cries
or turned a head to simply look, so
he died before any aid reached him.
I created a widow and three fatherless children
I created a broken home and a dark, dead place.
I won’t go to jail though, but I will
be confiscated because I’m nothing
but the knife inside the thief's pocket.
