The Murderer

Sitting in the car

Somewhere in Mexico City

I’m looking at people

Staring at them

Filled with contempt

Hatred

For no reason

It’s just an instinct

The first feeling

My shadow talking

And they stare back

Indifferent

Like if I didn’t exist

Maybe I don’t

People

Laughing

Talking

Uncontrolled

Empty eyed

No consciousness

Indifferent

I’ve got a murderer inside.