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The Murder

I wrote this is the month of August 2015, that one academic year I didn't write anything. This was cooked up after a bad dream and written on the back of one of the debate mark-sheets. One also referred to it as a little extreme for the act of killing a mosquito.  

2 years I lived in shame,
Now I've found who's to blame.

She left me torn, 
I was forlorn.
She left me a changed man,
No more would my mind expand.

The cries of anguish I still remember,
The pain still fresh in my mind,
Fate wasn't kind that time,
But I did endure for what seemed like forever.

The first time I met her,
She seemed like an angel.
The last time I saw her,
She left as the devil.

The thought of her, an angel or a demon?
Tears my mind to two.
Oh it were as treason,
To believe her eyes still are blue.

The vamp made me suffer,
I held back no more.
Twas the sound of the singing lark,
That did spark my anger.

I reached out grabbing her,
She let out a gasp of surprise.
I snapped her neck in two,
It was done. I was through.

They called me a villain,
Praised her as Saint.
If only they knew,
What I tried to forget, all in vain.

They asked me how I stayed so calm,
They called me a killer.
If only they knew,
I'd done them a favour.


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