It is I, who stabbed the man. The man who I have stabbed, in my very head. Sorrow and hatred for that man. The man is bleeding below the hand. “Save me! Save me!”, bellows the man. As blood is pulled ...

This is the poem that got me into writing my first poem, "The Suicidal Man".

I could not look on Death, which be Known, Men led me to him, blindfold and alone.