The choice is mine to make, I know
Yet one I see leads to naught but sorrow,
And the other to amoral tableau.

To let my family starve,
Or to take my gun to Marve.
The latter is the best option.
The final end to such a dire situation.

I walked slowly and solemnly to his door.
Rang it twice, thrice, four times more.
He answered with such admirable gusto.
I almost felt sorry, but it was in the name of His manifesto.

I closed my eyes and soon the deed was done.
The red liquid lay waste to his clothes, now sodden.
I glanced around but couldn’t escape the glean.
Oh how civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

The money I needed seemed less important now.
I stood there and without shame did avow
That I killed a man, without mercy, for the money he had.
Though now strangely enough such a prospect seemed mad.

I knelt beside him now feeling ill.
Starting to cry I said aloud “Oh what a thrill!”
A terrible feeling overtook me,
As my disposition turned beastly.

I thought no more of my family, my debt, or my trouble,
Only of the man who lay on the floor post-crumple.
How could I have done such a thing?
Silence was in the air, but then a terrible ring!

It would not stop, from my head, came such a sound.
The realization of what I had done came to truly resound.
The noise became unbearable I couldn’t take it anymore.
Luckily we were on the top floor.

The choice then was mine to make I know
Yet one I see leads to naught but sorrow,
And the other to horror and disgusting tableau.

I once again chose the latter, and jumped.