As the wind hits my face
I stand there and wonder
Why would she do that?
Why didn't he stop her?
Why did they choose to believe her?
Instead of me
I shake my head
And wonder
Again
But this time it was different
Why do I care?
About what they think
Why am I doing this?
To myself
But the most important question of all was...
How to get rid of a bunch of dead bodies?
YOU ARE READING
Letters to them
PoetryJust a few poems and some short stories I wrote when I couldn't sleep
