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
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
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,
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.