I found a dying man
He was laying on the ground
Blood streaming down his chest
Gasping desperately for air

He tried to dig out the knife from his chest
But it was plunged in too deep
He put his hands over his wounds
As if to stop the bleeding

He reached out his hand
And tried to touch me
It was a plea for help
He was asking me to save him

But I didn’t help him
I just stood there and watched him die
I didn’t help him at all
Because I am the one who stabbed him

It was yet another damning ritual
of waking up to another ******,
looking for the evidence and the witnesses,
It will take another twenty four hours, at least. - someone said.

And then it all started again:
interrogation of the local drunkards, prostitutes
and ****** addicts.
No one dared to probe and torture the good men of this town,
like if they couldn't have done it.

If there is way out of this mess, 
we need to punish the murderers.
But first we have to find them,

while someone is trying to hide them.
Typical.

Did you seriously think, sonofabitch,
that if you dressed in a luxurious enough suit,
the blood on your hands would fade?,
the fear you once awoke go pale?
Do you seriously think that silk
makes children come back to life?
Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers.
All dead.
By your own hands.
And once again, I found you on the goverment,
because when you put enough silk
(enough money)
around your shady words,
people can suddenly turn a blind eye
on the bombs you once made explode.

She went shopping one day
to never come back.
They couldn’t even have her body at her funeral—
Oops! All we found was a tiny ****** arm.
Sorry about your mom, about your newborn.
You’ll never see either again.

Do you seriously think
that money will make them come back to life?
Not even as zombies they could rise,
because to do so their bodies would need to be more
than tiny little ******* scraps.

There once was a munchkin from Oz
Named Phineas Entwhistle Boz:
     The Lollipop Guild
     Had Phineas killed:
Their reason, they said, was becoz.

The world sleeps so still,  
peaceful in its ignorance  
screams fall like petals...

I didn’t mean
for it to end—
not like this,
not my best friend.

The anger came,
too fast, too loud.
Now I dig
and whisper proud.

We laughed that night,
like always did—
talked of dreams
and stupid kids.

But I held hurt
behind my grin—
a thousand cuts
he’d sliced within.

He didn’t know
how deep they went,
how words can bruise,
how time gets spent.

One glass too much,
a shove, a shout—
and all those ghosts
came pouring out.

I saw the fear
flash in his eyes,
too late to stop,
too late for "why’s."

"I’m sorry"
won’t bring him back.
But still,
I say it
to the cracks.

The ground is cold,
my hands are red.
And silence speaks
where he once said:

"You’re my brother,
through it all."
Now I just
recall the fall.

No court, no cell
can cage me in—
just memory,
and what has been.

Here I am in comatose
Damnedest man I did so boast
Paralyzed from fear I swore
Succumbing to eerie voices galore
Here they whisper, there they shout
Forgotten longings in endless bout
Obsidian spires do so climb
Monoliths rising to the ashen sky
Molten magma in a blazing doom
Had I one wish it would be for you
Blind and petrified I do become
Only to hear a chilling song
Come back to me so she says
Or you will be stuck in choicely dread
She says so true and warningly
But I could detect a wanton glee
Had I a voice I would so cry
Come save me darling my dear divine
I had not the eyes to see
Barren wastelands singing to me
Thuds and croons echo all around
Was it a corpse or am I nightmare bound
Ever so close they are I feel
So I thought to pray but my legs fear to kneel
Abandon all hope they scream and plea
Singing Devils wrath is waiting on me
When I see him I will hold true
And tell the Devil to take her too

Believe me officer,
I know the crows.

I know their black feathers,
Their call is cold,
It terrifies me.

I used to count them,
2 is safe,
3 is a warning,
4 is an omen,
5 is too late,
6 is a ******,
Six means death.

So what was I to do,
When I counted seven up in the roost?
I blew them back to hell,
No more counting,
No more omens.
Is killing those **** birds,
Really a crime?