Blood stained hands
How can you walk so tall
when a demon sits on your shoulder?
How can you be so happy
when death is around the corner?
How can you live your life
while others die?
How can you sleep at night
when the screams are so loud?
How can you look so smug
when you stab me in the back?
How can you be so brave
when your life is about to end?
Did you not see the messenger before you?
Holding in his hand your warrant for death?
Did you not feel his icy grip upon your shoulder?
Did you not hear the bell toll for you?
Did you not see it?
Did you not feel it?
How can you live your life
knowing it is so insignificant?
How can you dwell in pity
when others would be grateful for your life?
How can you look me in the eye
and tell me you are alone?
How can you be so self centered
when others need so much
How can you be so greedy
with what others have to give?
How can you live with yourself
knowing who you are?
Did you not see me standing there?
Did you not see the knife in my hand?
Did you not feel the icy blade pierce your skin?
Did you not hear your own cries?
Did you not see it?
Did you not feel it?
Now I live my life
with your blood on my hands
Now I walk in a daze with the only remembrance is
your bleeding heart in a jar
And when I close my eyes
all I see is your blood on my hands
M. Swanson
©2000