Bedeutungslos

What manner of madness is this
Which so befouls my mind
Sees me in solitude
Weeping for I know not what

Deeds of no high matter
Mark my trail
Their rank stench
A melody of perceived sins

Would that murder
That beautiful game
Were but that

Say the same of rape

The very theft of ones mind
Ones will

Naught but a game

What of games
Mere trifles to pass the time
Moments of frivolity
Joy

Moments of no import

Do I weep because I stole
Seizing a will that was not mine
Partook of another's unwanton flesh
Letting reason laze as I rode rampant

Or are they a remembrance
For the time that I was stolen

Such bile fills this mind
Thoughts of such needless
Senseless humanity

I stress human
Far from humane

Is it murder that I weep for

Much have I given
As much as I took
Though still

I wait

This mind is weary
Longing to rest

Murder is on it

So I weep
For this life
Which is only that in name
Yearns
To be a victim

© 2007, Mosquitobyte