A Study In Psychopathy: The Family Annihilator

Come here, Isaac,
and fetch a knife before you come.
There’s a thread I need to cut
from my dragging hem.

Maybe it leads to a seam
and my clothing will fall from me
once it’s gone; I don’t know.
Perhaps nothing will happen, 

perhaps I’ll end up
naked and ashamed
before all if I act;
I can’t see that far ahead.

I only know it bothers me
to see it hanging there.
Almost would say it’s calling me
to take it from my view.

Almost I’d say
there’s a sadness in its voice.
A melancholy
that compels like none I’ve ever heard.

I never heard a thread speak before.
That means I have to listen. Isaac,
fetch the knife.  We’ll go far away
and I’ll do the deed in private

with only you to watch me
and you can cover me after
if I am left exposed. This is what
a son and father do, Isaac;

the father acts as he believes is right,
the son then, usually, moves on.
Fetch the knife, and let us go.
There’s a thread that binds me,

irks me, keeps me from my life,
and I need to cut it free.  It demands
that I cut it free.  What else is there to do,
Isaac?  What can we do but do it?