When will you stop talking to me? You with all of your troublesome questions and moaning lamentations. It was you who had talked me into that horrible murder that you committed with an axe. And now we will pay the ultimate price and sink into the grave with others tramping on our mound from above.
We had been together since birth, but it was you who snatched my soul. I tried to be heard but you always suffocated my screams. We are two souls in one body, but you just had to shameface and humiliate me. You were the evil guardian of my conscience. My once beautiful and pure soul is now contaminated by the odor of our killing. Everyone dies for a reason but is everyone put on earth to die for a spiritual cause?
And you who extracted my soul should be weary of me, like the meek crooked legged calf, for the meek calf doesn't possess slips in memory of those who tortured him. Why? Because the meek calf may have a craving for vengeance. These meek ones are the creatures, who because of past incidents, bury the bodies to bury the past. So watch out and be careful.
It was you who murdered my soul who found it so unworthy. But an hour before our earthly departure a peace came over me as I knew our fate and neither of us would survive. I wanted to leave this life on the best possible terms. And because you are a part of me, we will leave together. I wanted to break out in applause for my life in order to sympathize with myself. I have lived my whole life in constraint and during this short duration on earth I have sacrificed myself to you completely.
But now with our earthly departure imminent, all is irrelevant. In moments we will by lying under the guillotine where the executioner will drop the blade and we will, if only for a second, hear the slide of the steel. You continue to argue with me and haunt me even as we lay on the executioner's table.
Then came the scrape of the blade and your head was gone, but mine remained. I waited for my doomed fate, which never came. I got up and looked at your head on the ground and the horrible wound that they were stitching up from separating your head from mine. We were no longer the two headed man. Now I could be free as your head was now detached from mine. They found you guilty of murder, but not me. Even though physically your head was gone, one thing remained. Your tormenting evil conscience was still part of mine. Soon after I was healed I committed a homicide, again, with an axe.