A Gentle Knife

It doesn't take much to kill a person. Degrees of human demise can be as simple as a word, a thought, a phrase, an accusatory stare. Betrayal is such a beautiful Beast! What motivates us to betray one another? Within the 'Why's" and the "How's" may lie the reasons for natural tendencies to kill. I just wish I new what codes of morality dictates humans to do such terrible things.

So, now my story has ended with a gentle knife. I stare at my corpse and wonder how it endured such torment, how that body grinded away everyday with hope and dreams; I see the wounds, the old scars and I try to imagine what it felt like receiving them so willingly and at what price. What was the price? As I stare at this broken body I wonder about the many years it took to sow and harvest all those precious memories, the laughter and the friendships... Was that all for nothing? Who mourns the fallen? Who will help them to rise? That knife is so gentle, so soft and warm...

They killed me. I may never know the true reason why or I mat suspect the reason. Maybe I wasn't of any 'value'. Maybe I failed their expectations? The knife doesn't tell me. It only take from me. My question is: What kind of person bases his judgement of another based on his value to them? Is a person worth proportional to their service to some end? A tool? Why is value in terms of the Human Condition?

In order to live, I have to be valued?
That's a scary question.

I'll always wonder why my friends and trusted people betray me. Consequently, I will always wonder what they get in return.