Death was his story,

Destruction was mine.

We had the same climax, and ending.

We had the same time.

Our plots unlike.

Our lives intertwined.


Had minds, not bodies intertwined,

Maybe there’d be a different ending to this story.

Maybe his fate could be unlike,

The fate of mine,

But father time,

chose a different ending.


But was there ever room for a happy ending?

Linked fate, entwined

with sin, needs only time

for stories

like mine

to begin. Unliked,



me, he, ended

his life though ending mine,

like I said, our lives intertwined,

I wish I could go back and tell my ego who’s story

I was really telling, in time.


I wishe I took a moment to confess my sins, in time.

but just like

him, thus my story

comes to an end

sin intertwined,

because he knew once he stole what was mine,


the hate would drive me out of my mind.

If only I could turn back time,

and intertwine

with a place, a face, very unlike

this, dry bitter, ugly, decapitated end

to this story.


when someone tells you their story,

listen until the bitter end,

and never be too vain to think it is unlike


your own. You see, any hero, could end up like mine

with the misunderstanding of story and time

your story, your life, yourself and killer could be forever intertwined.

Assassin–One Sentence Poem


Someone must die, it’s inescapable,

If you had the chance to play god would you,

Could you,

Should you,

Let’s play a game—


Scanning the room,

Spotting the target,



The mirrored imaged repulses you

Scarred, maimed,

If it’s worth it,



Suddenly rage fills you,

Your blood has been replaced with pure malice;



The blade raises in your hand…


the world is blank


When your eyes reopen,

Blood has been spilled;

It pours, it flows,

You watch the beauty of the crimson river as it exits your body,


wondering was it worth it?