I wrote a rhyming poem, I wrote a rhyming poem. Oh my god, I wrote a rhyming poem. It’s unheard of, it’s a miracle. I think I’m going to have a stroke!

Can you hear me screaming?

Do you know what I’ve done?

with a bloody knife in hand, 

what have I become?

I look at their faces

with empty, dead eyes

I think I’m the one who killed them

but I don’t know why

Can you hear me screaming?

Can’t you see me drown?

Why do you just stand there,

face covered with a frown?

Can you feel me falling?

Can’t you taste my fear?

Are all of you numb?

or does nobody care?

Can’t you see me drowning,

as the demons in me seethe?

I look at what my hand did,

and I find it hard to breathe.

I cry for those murdered

and I’m drowning in my tears.

I feel the guilt for what I’ve done,

but not as strongly as my fear.

Chorus

Can you feel me falling,

feel all of my pain.

The blood on the ground is washed away

by a suddenly arriving rain.

But my hands remain sticky, 

bloodstains refuse to leave.

I hear the demons cackling,

they’re laughing at me.

Chorus

Can’t you taste my fear

as it curdles the air?

Why did no one stop me?

Why was no one there?

Any rescue is too late now

my foul deed has been done.

I sit by the ones I’ve killed

and wait for justice to come.

Chorus

 

By the way, hahaha, Parksteroni. This proves that I do have variety. This time, the knife is in some one else, not me. Huzzah for my uniqueness!

~ by ccsfuzz on July 24, 2008.