The full picture
They ask how the blood got on your hands and all you do is glare,
Because you don’t even dare,
To tell them how it all began.
They stare as if you’re the one to blame,
But they don’t understand how this dreadful game,
Became so deadly serious.
They offer you a hand to hold,
But you just sprint away so bold,
As you don’t dare face the terrible consequences.
You know you can’t change what’s happened in the past,
But you hope to yourself this pain won’t last,
You know that the evidence is still out there though.
They question how the knife got in his chest,
And you don’t even get chance to speak about the rest,
As you’re a cold-blooded murderer with nowhere to hide.
They find a blooded letter,
That was supposed to make everything that happened better,
Before the end of your life came.
They made a statue of you,
For others to jealously look up to,
The person who gave all those children peace,
The one who set them free.
(2013)
Never judge a story by the way it begins because it may turn out to have a totally different ending.
