Premeditation

I wake up to dark thoughts;

I say "today is your last day"

and I mean it,

for all youve done to me, to my family.

The first name on the list of all my enemies.

People talk about 'an eye for an eye'

but I, for one,

know this has to be done.

I've had it marked upon my calendar,

counting down to the advent of this gracious day,

knowing when you've gone away, at least

I'll find a piece of peace - 

my own variation of (pre)meditation.

I sit in silence,

all-consuming thoughts of violence.

Where did all my love go?

Lost somewhere in my destructive designs.

I think about my mother, being the maker of a murderer,

and your mother, because with your death I've murdered her,

but a promise is a promise.

I use to think that too much hate would eat me up inside,

lay waste to my mind;

all these Job like lamentations,

but from it has sprung a purpose;

momentous resolution,

near divine revelation.

I have a clarity of thought

that's followed my decision,

my vendetta now turned catechism.

Your glorious destruction,

a product of premeditation.

"This is your last day."