Facing the Truth

You try to tell someone,

They don't believe you.

They think you're out of your mind,

You try to convince them otherwise,

But they just back into the wall with a crazed look in their eyes.

Walking away…they always do.

You grab hold of the knife,

Now that's when they really squeal and run for their lives,

Wanting to get out,

To run away.

But not quickly enough….

Now too terrified to move,

You take advantage.

You plunge the 12-inch blade into their chest.

They gasp, choke and stutter as the ice cold pain erupted through their body.

Their face pales as the blood comes slipping out over your hands.

Their eyes make contact with yours,

You see their pain increasing,

The life steadily flickering out of them.

You wrench out knife as they slip to the floor.

"I'm so sorry that it had to be this way, but it's for your own good."

You say as you cradle them in your arms.

Their breathing becomes more exaggerated,

Your clothing is now completely drenched with slowly drying blood;

And yet their eyes still remain fixated on yours,

Begging for help, for mercy, a way out,

To escape this suffering.

As they draw in their final gasp of air,

A tear tumbles gently down your face.

The light has completely faded from their eyes,

No movement now disturbs the lifeless body.

You lay them down carefully,

Closing their eyelids,

Folding the arms over their chest so their hands rest together.

You pick up the silver blade,

Turn your back on the corpse,

And walk slowly away,

Sighing deeply, you whisper

"Goodbye my friend, you can rest now, be free of your troubles and sorrows for eternity."