What do you tell a mother who finds her child dead in a pool of blood?
That you’re sorry for her loss?
Or will the words fail you
As you find yourself holding her
Will her tears haunt you because that blood was shed by your hands?
Or will you be indifferent as you search for the next child?
The next mother to hold
Because her pain is the only joy life affords you
Do you remember the first one?
About a year after your own loss
When therapy seemed to have started working
Or so everyone else thought
Do they suspect that you found a relief?
Much more different from simply sharing your angst
In taking from others
The same love that you lost
Will you ever stop?
Maybe commit suicide
Permanently end the throbbing pain
That even those small sickening moments of elation can’t seem to stop
Or will you have your grandchildren over for summer sometime
The off springs of the lost love of your life
And contemplate doing to them as you’ve done those other young ones
When the evil finally consumes you
How do you feel?
Before, during and after
Do you worry about being caught?
Are you always careful?
When you look in the mirror
Is it a monster you see?
Is it the monster I see in you that you see?