From: Bystander To: Killer

Your story has been told over and over again,
Re-written through the woven lies of green-eyed goblins
Who lurk through darkness on deserted main streets, closely trailing your slumped shadow,
Their scaly hands lifted towards you in doom as their pupils roll back in their skulls,

Their presence to you is simply, “I don’t care”,
Let them watch as you stagger into the night,
Picking off your prey one by one,
Like nails on a chalkboard, they shriek their final prayer at your cheerful grin,
And just like that you put them to sleep, forever,

The city’s bright lights will shine through your soul to illuminate the truth,
As could we, who watch silently from the ditches of eroded gutters,
Turning our heads this way and that way, watching in neutrality,
We know what you’ve been up to,
We know where you are going,

But we too have our fears,
We wouldn’t dare follow you to the bridge,
You walk with your head down, garbage bag tossed over your shoulder,
And after some time your silhouette evaporates into the surrounding forest,
And we know now you have called it a night,

As for the goblins?
They marvel and scurry home to tell their loved-ones what they have witnessed,
Some even panic and dial the local police,
This must make you chuckle, perhaps even put a smile on your face,
Because we both know very well you’ll be back tomorrow night.