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Poems On / About MURDER  2/1/2015 7:44:03 PM
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  225.     

>>>Empathy and its soul

It is of course an act of pure evil
To behead someone who is under your captivation
Killing in cold blood is like killing the entire mankind
Dear empathy, I totally agree with you
But could you tell me where your soul is
When they murder playing children in a beach
What kind of a kind act it is
When unarmed boys and girls are shot in the head

It is of course a criminal injustice
Or an act of a terrorist when they fire rockets, shoot bullets
Or blast bombs among innocent people
Dear humanity, I totally agree with you
But could you tell me where your integrity is
When they drop bombs and missiles
Over the heads of fleeing masses.

All killings are killings, all murders are murders
Dear life, I totally agree with you
But could you tell me why you distinguish deaths
On the basis of how the crime is committed.
 
Abdul Wahab

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  226.     

Definition of Pain

Life so precious yet so easily taken away

happiness what everyone wants yet there filled with pain

People causing pain to others for their amusement

Which causes hatred from their victims in turn it creates their murder

What has life come to hatred, anger, pain, death instead of happiness, joy, love, life

how can I live with life

for if i'm happy others will give me pain

if i'm in pain others will fill me with hatred

which will have me taking their so precious lives

So how can I feel happiness once again

when in order to do so I have to create all those things I despise

So doesn't a victim create their own murder in turn creates the death of the murder

if all of this is true isn't life a cycle of happiness to pain then unto death.
 
Requiem Night

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  227.     

Miss Murdered(my name)

Your walk in the dance in my heart
And your heartbeat screams my name
I'm spilling over thoughts of you
It's always been this way.

No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
Would you look at me
If I wasn't outspoken?

'Madame Lost cause'
'Beautiful Disaster'
'Ms. 'Why Not''
I'm the source of your laughter

Pain of my heart
Love of my life
The question of the year
Is 'W-H-Y? '

Some man yesterday
Asked me my name
I told him 'Miss Murder'
And he said 'stay away'

It's not true.
My name I mean
I've never murdered anyone
YOU murdered ME!

Beat of my heart
Laugh of my throat
You almost had me
So you gloat

I love you, I hate you
It's all the same
It's alright darling
'Ms. Murdered''s my name
 
Gabriella Franco

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  228.     

Little Harry

Harold was an evil child
Conceived on a stolen train
Born in a sack from a prostitutes back
He had murder on his brain

As a babe he took the greatest joy
In spitting on his Mother’s breast
He would wait till she was near asleep
Then scream to break her rest

At Two he strangled an alley cat
And orphaned all her kittens
At Three he murdered all of those
With blood he felt quite smitten

Four and Five were dreadful years
As Harold only worsened
To become at the tender age of six
A most formidable person

He’d wear his knickers day and night
In a knot atop his head
By day he’d make up murder songs
At night his mind burned red

For blood this little chap did thirst
He yearned for life to cease
He killed his mum, his dad, his aunt,
His little brother Reece

And finally, the little sod
Climbed the house’s highest shelf
The final act, the curtain fall
Little Harry killed himself
 
Ashley Hawkes

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Poems On / About MURDER