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His Song
Just this
A discussion of
My last kill
She bled
I stared
In fascination
The pupils as
They fix themselves
On a point
Fix themselves
On me
I'm the last sight
She sees
One wound
To do the job
So there's time
To think
Should have put
Put you back in
The box
There's still time
To think one last
I hope she does
I hope she will
There's time
Just enough to say
I'm starting to rot
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By the time you're twenty-five they will say you've gone and blown it. By the time you're thirty-five I must confide you will have blown them all
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