Untitled 3

I will say of a man aged two score and three

who laid a head upon the table before me

to he said I who's head is this here lain

to me he said it is a man i have slain

asked me of him, why killed you he?

said the man because it had to be

had to be, that is fateful talk

he had to die as man had to walk

evil lived comfortable in his dark soul

said the man whom i was thinking a ghoul

what proof have you, i challenged to show

looking at me close, with head bent low

he pulled from his sleeve a pocket book

handing it to me he urged me to look

words crawled the page as insects curious

and i looked up to him with eyes most furious

throwing the book to the flame there was an end

to his attempts to salvage from murder and make amend

his eyes upon me, as the dead orbs of the victim

turned quite empty, quite distant and yet most grim

his glare held no fear for me that night

i was assured by laws of God and man against fright

he took to me with such berserk and terrible rage

that it seemed to me a pity that he was beyond salvage

before fair dawn swept away that darkest of nights

there was left no witness to the macabre sights

the man of two score and three was no more

the head he had brought was on the floor

i must admit of the man, he did his job well

and good intentions would pave his path to hell

for my part, i gained through pride and greed

deadly though these sins are, not as deadly as need

I am a man of three score and five

while others are dead, I am alive.