You killed a man,
You ent his life.
Not with crayons,
But with a knife.

Many here,
On many days;
They disappear,
In many ways.

A pencil, paper, crayon, or pen,
Can take a life, and bring it end.

Some will try to hurt you,
Not all will understand;
Others will desert you,
As if on command.

Many there,
In many months;
They persevere,
From light to dusk.

A graphic novel, book, or work,
Can stagger out the thoughts that lurk.

No one can define you,
You're one of many ones.
[You] Don't always know what to do,
Stay, or go and run.

Many everywhere,
In many years;
Will subside,
Endorse their fears.

A clown, bug, ghost, or mummy,
Though some may find these funny.

You killed a man,
You reaped his soul.
Now you're gone,
You took your toll.

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