The Murderer’s Role

Pick up a knife
Take it out onto the street
Once you have torn people's lives
Will your life feel complete?
The victim is dead
You have stolen his soul
Because of hatred in your head
You grasped the murderer's role.
Blindly, you didn't think about his family
Who's lives were shred apart
You are the definition of immorality
And you are the owner of a stone heart
Your victim could have been your best friend
Who would you guide you the right way
Instead, you made their life end
In a grave, his body is locked away
You have a burning gash, full of guilt
You would give anything to rewind time
You wish for his body to be rebuilt
But you know you can never erase your crime
Unless you had never picked up a knife
To stab someone you never knew
That knife would not have torn people's lives
Surely this poem would have given you a clue?

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