"WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO SUFFERS"

With 20 strokes of your dagger, 
my hair is sticky with blood. 
You left me there to rot, 
in my makeshift bed of mud. 

When do you think they'll find me ? 
how far will you have to run? 
Looking over your shoulder . . . 
ashamed of what you've done? 

I wonder if there were others, 
whose lives you have disposed . . . 
Have you ever stuck around 
to watch as they decomposed? 

Your skin is under my fingernails 
your hair balled up in my hand 
I tried to fight for my life that night 
but you refused to understand. 

That you're not God and have no right 
to take the lives of others. 
Who are you to decide on your own . . . 
who lives, who dies, who suffers?

Copyright  ©  2011   Elizabeth Ann Greene

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