The Untried Murderer

I watched as the life drained out of his eyes, I had done this to him
I had plotted his exit from life, in his own blood he did swim
I stumbled back in horror, I looked down on my hands
They showed the marks of what I'd done, and what had become of my plans
My heart skipped a beat, my eyes suddenly glazed
And I stood dumbfounded, while on his dead body I gazed
I looked up to the heavens, while the clouds poured out their tears
I had just carried out, what had been the very worst of my fears
He'd done nothing to me, but give me love and kindness
I staggered around his body, seemingly gone mindless
I could not stop the tears, they fell in a torrential rain
As I shut my eyes and ears, and tried to shut out the pain
My best friend my mentor, now dead at my feet
He'd been murdered I was the murderer, I sunk to my knees in defeat
And when reality sunk in, I stood up eyes hollow
I choked back my tears, taking a moment to swallow
"My friend you must see," I quietly said to him
"The story required your death," as I straightened my paper and pen

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This Poems Story

As a writer, I often developed bonds with the characters I've created. One of the hardest things I've had to do in my time of writing, is killing my characters. I feel like this poem accurately portrays the sensation I exsperience everytime I write the death of a character.