Echoes
The echoes are talking to me,
telling me to kill
But I don’t know,
I don’t know if I will
Listen to the echoes,
that are speaking to me
They are evil and sadistic,
driving me to be
A murderer who stalks,
and kills people at night
while looking at them,
and all of their fright
Not having a care,
of what happens to them
or anyone else,
and have to reason to condemn.
I must have listened to the echoes,
because in my hand
Is a knife covered with blood
so dark, so bland
I am standing in
an unfamiliar room,
where on the floor was a friend
stricken with fear and gloom
Just barely alive
they said to me,
“Why you are doing this,
I do not see?”
I raised the knife
and said with a glare,
“I do not know,
and I do not care.”
And with that said,
I brought the knife down
splattering blood,
all around
Blood on my face,
and in my hair
I walked out of the room,
with a mischievous stare
I went outside,
with a smile on my face
and looked up to the moon,
and began to brace
That my life has been a waste,
not known at all
by all of the people,
so big, so small
I peered at the light,
gleaming from the knife
looking how,
I had taken a life
I brought the knife down,
only once more
into myself,
with so much gore
Running down my fingers,
seeping in the cracks
of the sidewalk I stand on,
no longer in lack
Of the bloodshed needed,
to kill anymore
I was going to die,
my heart rotten to the core
I gasped for air,
losing my vision
collapsing to the ground,
in a collision
With death coming,
to my side
no where to run,
no where to hide
I gave into death,
and followed the dark
I had went,
with no last remark
Except for this,
I had for my friend,
“I will see you there,
I will see you at the end.”
telling me to kill
But I don’t know,
I don’t know if I will
Listen to the echoes,
that are speaking to me
They are evil and sadistic,
driving me to be
A murderer who stalks,
and kills people at night
while looking at them,
and all of their fright
Not having a care,
of what happens to them
or anyone else,
and have to reason to condemn.
I must have listened to the echoes,
because in my hand
Is a knife covered with blood
so dark, so bland
I am standing in
an unfamiliar room,
where on the floor was a friend
stricken with fear and gloom
Just barely alive
they said to me,
“Why you are doing this,
I do not see?”
I raised the knife
and said with a glare,
“I do not know,
and I do not care.”
And with that said,
I brought the knife down
splattering blood,
all around
Blood on my face,
and in my hair
I walked out of the room,
with a mischievous stare
I went outside,
with a smile on my face
and looked up to the moon,
and began to brace
That my life has been a waste,
not known at all
by all of the people,
so big, so small
I peered at the light,
gleaming from the knife
looking how,
I had taken a life
I brought the knife down,
only once more
into myself,
with so much gore
Running down my fingers,
seeping in the cracks
of the sidewalk I stand on,
no longer in lack
Of the bloodshed needed,
to kill anymore
I was going to die,
my heart rotten to the core
I gasped for air,
losing my vision
collapsing to the ground,
in a collision
With death coming,
to my side
no where to run,
no where to hide
I gave into death,
and followed the dark
I had went,
with no last remark
Except for this,
I had for my friend,
“I will see you there,
I will see you at the end.”
