They use to tease him incessantly.
He confessed to me
he struck back out of necessity.
Words were a weapon he
came under attack from especially
hard that day.
Unexpectedly,
Unexpectedly,
emotional stresses he
used to endure,
he couldn’t take anymore.
He was enraged as he ran out the door.
Echoes of laughter
permeated his grey matter.
His recollection blank thereafter,
until he was captured
covered in the spatter
covered in the spatter
of blood scared and trembling –
settlin down from the adrenaline rush.
Smokin shotty still stuck in his clutch
after the tragedy.
Still out of touch with the reality
of what he committed.
Somehow unaware that he did it
consciously,
but every night he relives it –
but every night he relives it –
awakened by his very own screams.
Even in death they torment him in his cell it seems.
-HymnAgen
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