I stabbed him.
It didn't just happen. I warned him, but he wouldn't listen. maybe he thought it was a joke, until I stabbed him.
It appeared first as a pen, then scissors, then a knife.
I told him to stop. He kept laughing.
I said 'Shut up', but he kept talking.
It echoed in my head.
He wouldn't stop talking. He kept laughing. My head kept spinning.
I picked up the pen and pointed it to him. He laughed at it, knowing, it couldn't hurt. In my mind, it transformed into scissors, I approached him, knowing I couldn't stab. But when it reached his stomach, I stabbed him. It turned into a knife.
There was blood. Blood everywhere. It flowed to the ground. He looked at me, shocked. I looked at him and smiled.
He won't underestimate me again. He knows I can stab. He'll be scared. I did it.
Yes, yes, yes
All this I said while in the psychologist office,
Under hypnosis,
Undergoing therapy
I wish I could do it.
It's so easy in my head,
But my hands can't pick up a pen,
When I see him.
He's my...
© Ebube
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem