The Eighth Shell

"...How was i different from them?, I thought, I pondered..."

I sat by my table, with a wine glass, half empty,
And on the table were lined seven shells,
Empty, for they had served their purpose,
And as I sat, the seven memories came to life.

The streets were washed in the yellow light,
As I saw him beat her to death, with bare hands,
His eyes burned with furry, and his hands did the deed,
And I emptied my first shell, as he came crashing down.

My sleep couldn't make peace with me, as the children cried,
They cried in heart chilling screams, as I entered the room,
The mother sat there, eating away, as the kids cried to hunger,
And I emptied my second shell, as her blood splattered the wall.

It was the great war, that made us leave our homes,
And I saw the old man push along his son, youth in his prime,
An able bodied man, but he had lost to slumber and laze,
And I emptied my third shell, and he slept for eternities to come.

He was a rich man, and his richness knew no end,
And at the slave market I saw him, I saw him with his little one,
As men quoted price for her tender skin, I saw the mammon in his eyes,
And I emptied my fourth shell, his riches he couldn't take along.

"Why do they love you more?", he screamed as with an ax he charged,
"Why do they not love me the same", and his envious blows found their mark,
His brother lay in a pool of blood as he cleaned the ax,
And I emptied my fifth shell, as he fell next to his brother.

"I am beautiful", She would chirp in every morning,
"My beauty, knows no boundaries", In the evening I would hear her say,
"You are no beauty", she smirked as she crashed acid on her lover's face,
And I emptied my sixth shell, and to dust her beauty was dethroned.

I loved her more than my life, she was my soul, my beloved,
Until I found her with men, men I had never known,
I found her with lust in her eyes, as she satisfied her carnal needs,
And I emptied my seventh shell, as her naked limp body soaked in blood.

And today I sit here, with a half filled glass in my hand,
And the seven empty shells that line my table,
"How was i different from them?", I thought, I pondered,
"Who will judge me?", I thought as I raised the gun to my head.