Poetry -Confession

I am a murderer
I made my soul one because death is justified for a crippled sinner
I persuaded her justice that I am one for I’ve known minds 
that cannot be truer consciousness
that cannot be gentler 

 

I am a reckless man slaughterer 
I stick knives into thoughts at dawn and watch the tenderness in my throat 
gradually shatter
I will threaten innocence to bleed for my emperors’ pleasure when 
freedom eventually becomes our kingdom’s ultimate censor

 

I am a spectator to my own crime
I kill with ignorance by seconds to the delightful rhythm of Paris’ chime
I bathe my tainted lungs with the last words of victims and
cleanse my culpable soul with blasphemous hymns 
step by step each time

 

I am by definition merely a human being
I robbed these words from the love letter she was 
secretly carrying
She is the culprit of  guilt accumulating glasses of apathy permeating 
the witness of sanity perishing the pandemonium’s christmas carolling