This poem hits with a kind of quiet horror that stays under your skin. What struck me most is how it refuses to let anyone step away from the scene everyone is part of it, even the ones who only stood by the door. The details about the blood touching different people make the guilt feel physical, not symbolic. It’s unsettling because it feels so true to how violence spreads through a group. The line about those who could stop it but didn’t is painfully familiar. It’s the kind of truth you don’t want to admit. I like how the poem shows different reactions wiping hands, licking lips, listening from outside all of them part of the same failure. It’s not about who held the knife, but who allowed it to happen. The ending lands hard: no one walks away clean. It’s a tough poem, but it’s honest in a way that lingers.
And we still are.
This poem hits with a kind of quiet horror that stays under your skin. What struck me most is how it refuses to let anyone step away from the scene everyone is part of it, even the ones who only stood by the door. The details about the blood touching different people make the guilt feel physical, not symbolic. It’s unsettling because it feels so true to how violence spreads through a group. The line about those who could stop it but didn’t is painfully familiar. It’s the kind of truth you don’t want to admit. I like how the poem shows different reactions wiping hands, licking lips, listening from outside all of them part of the same failure. It’s not about who held the knife, but who allowed it to happen. The ending lands hard: no one walks away clean. It’s a tough poem, but it’s honest in a way that lingers.
The emotional resonance here is chilling. I adore how, despite the language being simple, it still creates an unsettling fog around the scene.