Murder knocked at my door.
i asked "what brought you here?"
the wind, no thats not proper.
the stars? thats too convenient.
or was it the taste for a place where death prolongs race.
in any case, i wanted out of this space.
later that night, Murder came again.
along with a homeless man without any friends.
as i watched through the window, secretely forbidden.
a knife has slit his throat, the street was now reddened.
the trail of blood poured as paramedics performed furiously.
and as he layed and died i pondered to myself curiously.
such a wicked trick that Murder made me see.
the man that i saw dying, was actually me.