Sentenced (XXI-XXVII)

Six little children and a timid wife

were the source of fourteen adoring eyes.

What they didn’t know was how I despise

myself unable to give a good life.

How could they have known my personal strife?

I didn’t want them to know, those sweet eyes.

I would raise them to a home in the skies

and they won’t even remember the knife.


But the eyes never stopped gazing at mine,

no longer a gaze of adoration

but with a look that scorns my selfish crime.

Lord, please save me from my mind’s mutation

and close their eyes which exist beyond time!

Or, forever, just close mine – please close mine!



Don’t talk to me
is said as
‘Goodnight… ‘You’.

Then that ‘You’
thought of others.

How it was to be
a part of nothing,
when no thing was a death.

Death means nothing to you
who held no thing in importance.

Importance placed only
when a hundred are lost
in only one.

Then the only one left says
‘Goodnight, you’.