HB ( / London, UK)

Death Of A Perpetrator

I turned around and there was death,
He took my hand, then took my breath,
I felt his touch, cold and harsh,
As he took the murmur of my heart,
I felt his whisper against my cheek,
As he took my final beat.

My sense was weak, my mind was hollow,
I pulled away, yet still I followed,
With death by side and a prospect so bleak,
I slowly crept into a soundless sleep.

I felt his grip against the knife,
As silently he took my life,
I felt their pain, I heard them cry,
Before the grave in which I lie,
I see them mourn, I hear them weep,
Before the ground in which I sleep.

I behold the shadow of he who lived,
Who took my life as I took his,
With death I lived and a death I died,
A revenge so bitter from the other side,
I left the world, now sweet and pure,
Innocent, untainted, as it was not before.

I see it now, so fresh, so bright,
The beauty of day, the silence of night,
All I have lost, as he took my life,
The power of death and his bitter bite,
So, as death took me, I'll take his knife,
For now it is my turn to take a life,

They who mourn, and they who weep,
Will follow me into a silent sleep.
I’ll take their hand then take their breath,
I’ll steal their life, for I am death…

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