I scraped my knee again.
Mom is going to be angry.
She’s going to count to ten
So I’ll enter the house, ending my play abruptly.
My knee already hurts but she’ll still scold me.
I’ll get banished to my room like Rapunzel trapped in the tower.
She’ll ground me indefinitely
Though I don’t know what that means.
All I know is that it would be more than an hour.
So instead of telling mom that I scraped my knee
I’ll keep this a secret and just wash the wound completely.
Mom doesn’t need to know so I can continue playing.
That sounds like a good plan, that’s all I’m saying.
A heart wounded is bad enough
Wound the ego and it becomes a catastrophe
You’ve murdered me and I am spent
The police would not know, they came by and went
They wouldn’t know, no one could tell
No one heard the cries, screams or yell
No evidence they can find to show you’re guilty
Because they look at me and say I’m fine and healthy
No stab wounds to show
No blood stains in the dark that glow
No bullet hole, no gun, no weapon at all
Because the way you murdered me, was to make me fall
I am now without a heart
And I can only hope you wouldn’t tear it apart
Because whether you admit or not
You are guilty for making me like you a lot
The color of red so deep
I almost froze.
My mind raced at lightning speed
What do I do now?
“Keep calm”, I told myself.
I had to.
Someone had to.
Thank God, all went well.
But the image of horror, will never be erased now.