I think I killed a man,
Don’t ask me how I know
I’m not sure myself
But there’s this gap between three and six
I can’t remember
I didn’t think I was the kind of guy who could, you know
Take life,
It’s not as if it’s something I can fix, if I did,
Is there a way to live life the way
You lived after something like that, like this?
There’s these holes in my memory, I can’t piece together
But if it’s my fault that he’s gone –
Then he’s gone forever

I woke up with this guilt,  like an emotional switch
And it wants me to believe that I did
I’m inclined to believe it too,
It’s out of character, maybe, but I guess
It’s something I could do-
Something I’m capable of
I don’t want to believe that a
Murderers twitch is inside me, eating
Me up and driving me
And with some disgusting flick, the
Lights on – my memories gone and
Someone’s died because of me
It’s not me, it isn’t part of me – it
Never will be, not my character – it’s
Not my profession
This isn’t what I wanted, this isn’t,
This isn’t what I wished for,
This is not a confession

I don’t even know why I would
I could think of reasons but that
Doesn’t mean that I should
Maybe under the pressure recently,  I acted out
Maybe it was me, maybe I blacked out,
Maybe, I did something terrible,
Maybe I did something I never
Thought that I could, allegedly
What if I’ve always been able?
What if it’s just in me, like coding
What if throughout all of my years
Growing up, in this world of tragedy,
War, lies and politicians – something
Has been dormant and spent every
Second in me, loading
Waiting for the perfect moment of an
Elaborate set up of events and social
Conditions
Waiting for the perfect set of
Circumstances to begin initiating
So whatever this is could creep
Through my mind and start imitating
Me, everything that makes me me-
Taking it’s dear sweet time, before
Using me – for the perfect crime.

That doesn’t sound right, this
Doesn’t, this sounds like excuses
I am a person – with ambitions – with
Unique talents and uses
But everyone has dark moments,
That’s loose – I’ve got nothing-
But what have I got to lose?
It’s not a defence,
It’s a pretext
It’s a pretense
It’s context
Do you mean to convince me that I
Could make a jury’s attention
Worthwhile as I present them about
As much conviction that I’m innocent
As an evidence file? It’s a farce
Not so fast
It’s hopeless
It’s a trial, go in there and tell them
The truth. That you were the last to
See him, but you can’t remember
That isn’t proof
Tell them when you woke up at six
That you didn’t remember climbing
Onto the roof, tell them about your
Collapse at three, the memory lapse at
The scene and whatever happened
On the roof
But how can that be the truth, I don’t
remember, this isn’t fair – there’s no
way of knowing, I was in shock, I
couldn’t move

It wasn’t your fault.

I didn’t even know who he was
Do I want to, will you even tell me?
It doesn’t sit right with me, that the
Last person to know him- doesn’t.
What he looked like, spoke like-
Who he loved – were they all the
Cost?
I always thought it would be better
To have loved and lost – than to be
forgotten altogether,
I would never have wanted that,
Wished it, least of all to inflict it
Am I to be haunted by a face that
Can’t even be depicted?
You know, I’ve never really believed-
but if there is fate, then I have tricked
It,
The worst thing is there’s nothing, no
One that can attest, or prove I was
There,
But you need someone to blame
Even if I tried to turn myself in, the
Evidence is far too minimal
So I’ll use the time I have between
The roof and the floor to confess
Because you need one- I’ll be that
name. I’ll be your criminal.

© Thomas Grice, 04/06/17

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