Murder on my mind

Murder on my mind,

A chill runs down my spine.

These december winds

Have a malice like mine.

I love to see the soul

Writhe out of someone's body

When my knife cuts them clean

All their gold now left gaudy.

But why is it so fun

To steal away a life?

Is it the taste of blood?

The loss of a father or a wife?

They will no longer be happy,

No more moments of love and peace,

But nor will they know of pain,

Or sorrow, or panic, or grief.

So, then what's the essence of life?

What gives it its value?

What is it really made of?

I don't any clue?

Writer: Iffah Peerzada

Editor: Riya Pote

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