Freddy, I too killed man,
Laying silently in my bed,
I still hold the gun in my hand,
I fear he may never return.
Brains splattered like thrown jello fruit salad,
Sticking to my footboard,
How wondrous it is,
I haven’t seen a Pollock before.
He was wasting his time,
Reading and writing,
Simply because someone said.
I am the one who knows,
He did not,
That we only get one life,
To waste it doing nothing,
To waste it on others breaths,
That matter none in death.
If only he could have thought,
Once for himself and once for me,
We seen through the same eyes,
Too bad he let his mind have a frame,
Too bad we couldn’t occupy the same brain.

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