You taught me the alphabet
in time to read your thoughts
of a gruesome deed you performed
while I slept in oblivious nighttime hopes
of love and life and laughter.
A confession found
within the piles of poetry,
short stories and newspaper clippings
of a secret life you lived
while I was blinded by my innocence.
Today you rot in a far off place
with the darkness of whispers and shadows
and the empty thoughts
of your gruesome deeds
and the inability to write them down.
Do I feel sorry for you?
Written June 13, 2012
Picture Prompt: Mag 121