Indeed the night was dark.
Perhaps he mistook the meaning - of life, of love, of purpose. Tell us, did you do it on purpose? With what purpose? Was this your only purpose?
 He who laughs last, laughs in a prison cell, one not cold enough keep his dark heart on ice, though empty stares suggest long frozen arteries.
Solitary confinement cannot protect you from yourself.
Wading back and forth, oscillating eyes, the sleeping madness behind them, finally awake, insanity surfaces, touching him once again, guilt revealing his greatest victim.

And what of the day? Did you brush your teeth? Did you comb your hair? Did you iron your bullet proof vest? Did you polish the smoke bombs? Did you shine the shot-gun? The semi-automatic failed your full on attack, red in your eyes, turning your aim to the back, blood on the clock, revealing the glock, adjacent theaters would too feel the shock. When did you stop? What was the thought that rode those neurons, leaked a chemical recoil, halted the haunting toil?

You were afraid.

You were alone.

You had red hair and shit for bones.

You killed a baby, who had yet to see life. In China, he'd be one years old - considering the day of conception her day of birth - removed her little life from Earth - to be lain early in dirt - still clung to the womb beneath her Mothers shirt.

You didn't ruin any live except your own. You will leave this world the way you lived, alone - except we all know your secrets, we all know what you hide. But you keep from us what we really want, what the Mothers want, what the Fathers, Sisters, and Brothers want. You're keeping it from us, James. You're hiding it so deep down that even you can't find it.

So take your time. You've got the rest of your life to think - a luxury of the living.