First poem for years

Dark night. Got in a fight. I'm alright - but the other guy's dead - hit in the head. He shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have spread it.

I tried to resist, but he made me so pissed. He said it out LOUD, and though I'm not proud... of what I did then, I'd do it again.

You canna back down, not in this town. It's kill or be killed, strike or be filled with the shame of your name in the gutter, they mutter...

... your crime, careless of time - their eyes on your back, ready to hack at your weakness, your meekness, your very uniqueness. 

So I killed him. I filled him with all of my rage, and while on the stage poured scorn on his word, I called it absurd as I smashed him...

... and crashed him into the floor. He spoke never more. I stumbled and fumbled my way to the door, aware of their eyes, of how they despise

... a man like me. Perhaps they can see, the shame I feel, having ended this youth, not for the lies that he told - but the truth.