Maiden...no more

They left us...
Their morbid curiosity gratified;
But in our heart, a wound
The African sun never can heal!

Before I die...

Please read Murderous Intentions before you read this post.

Dear SHE,

I bleed.

In my hand is a gun, pointing to my head. In my heart is the dagger of words, buried between those bulging halves that beat with life. What hand drives the handle? What venom rides on the wings of words, tearing by heart apart? Waiting for that moment, that sacred moment when all becomes still and life becomes but a drifting lullaby fading with each seconds. Then we wake on the other side, if there be any. Either way, I am a dead man!

But before I am declared another feast for famished worms, let me break this sullen silence whose clouds are beginning to gather. Let me, on this platform unearth a maze of events that time has failed to heal. For who knows, in death, I might find my life’s long quest. And who knows what great benefit this revelation would in its rising tide, accomplish.

I have wronged you.

I am as guilty as charged. In this court of conscience, I have been found guilty. I have caused you much pain and in death would I not cause you more, if I by your hand kiss this world goodbye? Would human laws not find you guilty? And even if you escape the short hands of the law, can you escape the ever vibrant court of conscience? If forgiveness be far from you, then let me die, not by your hands, but let me with my own hands, end this miserable life of mine. For I do not wish to cause your healing heart more pains.

One more thing before I become history.

Is it true that a part of me -a part of us, now grows in you? If this be true, then my heart fails me. My hands no more can pull the trigger. My heart bleeds the more for that innocent life who would soon be rendered fatherless. This innocent soul who knowing no wrong would have to pay for a sin she never committed. I wish things were different. I wish I could give her the happiness she so deserve. I wish…

One thing I ask even if I don't deserve it but for the sake of what we shared, never make her a part of this sour tale.

I wonder what you would you tell her about me? What if she finds out that her beloved mother, murderered her father? What if…?

Better I end this tragic tale now!

Adieu.

John.